Caught between a Memory and Reality
by Yakitori-Chan
Summary: Svetlana only knew 2 things: ballet and Evgeni Malkin. But when Evgeni leaves her to fulfill his dreams of playing in the NHL, she is left with no other choice but to follow the love of her life to Pittsburgh. There she learns a third thing: Jordan Staal
1. Leaving

Today is the day. Today is the day I'm leaving my home, and everything I've ever known to go to America, Pittsburgh to be exact. My name is Svetlana Vasilyevna Khitrova and I have lived my whole life in Russia but I can speak both English and French in addition to Russian. Ever since I was a little girl, my mama has groomed and trained me to be like her and her mama, a ballerina in the Bolshoi Ballet. You see there are two types of people in Russia, the person who scrapes on by to make a meager living and people who are rich and has more than enough money to spare. Luckily I was the latter but my ballet training was at a price, I was 16 turning 17 when I was accepted to the Bolshoi Ballet Academy, which is late for most girls in Russia, and it was then when I had to leave my first home of Magnitogorsk and I had to leave everything to follow not only my dreams but the dreams of my parents.

After two years I have risen through the ranks to become one of the prima ballerinas at the Academy but I chose to join the foreign exchange program to the Pittsburgh Ballet Company. Naturally I know you would wonder why Pittsburgh? Its cold except during the summer where it swelters, its snows and it has one of the highest poverty rates in America. I can give you one reason, Evgeni Vladimirovich Malkin. When I left Magnitogorsk I had to leave Evgeni, he was my first, my last and so far my only. When I went to the Academy, we wrote to each other near daily till he left for America to pursue his dream of becoming a professional hockey player. Every performance, every recital, every moment, even as I sit in first class, every fiber of my being belongs to him. Evgeni was my first everything, my first kiss, my first real friend, my first love. Now as I wait for this plane to take off and bring me closer to him I can only hope that he feels the same way.


	2. Kismet

Here I am, in a cab in Pittsburgh, in a country where I know exactly one person and that one person doesn't even know I'm here and that one person I have no way of contacting. But I have faith that fate will bring us together. Fate has worked in many ways for me.

My entire dance career relied on the dynasty my great-grandmother built with her dancing. Sure I was talented, but my build is not that of a dancer but perhaps more of a pole-vaulter's. You see while I inherited my mother's Russian looks with my dark brown hair, pale porcelain skin, full rosy lips, and high cheekbones, I did not inherit my mother's typical blue eyes. I inherited my father's golden eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes. The main problem is that I also inherited my father's height. My mother, typical for a ballerina, stands at 5'3" while my father towers over her at well above 6'. I stand at about 5'9" almost 5'10" when wearing my pointe I'm nearly 6' tall. This is a problem because most danseurs, male ballet dancers, at the tallest are 6'. It seemed as if when I turned 14, my body decided to play tricks on me and my dream. Alien breasts seemed to protrude, rounding out my body, my legs and torso stretched and stretched till I was nearly a giant among my classmates. No amount of talent or family prestige would make the ballet instructors at the Bolshoi Academy ignore my height and build that is until fate stepped in. When I auditioned for the Academy so did Sergei Yurievich Petrov, the 6'5" hockey player turned dancer. Sergei had turned to dance when a freak accident involving: getting speared in the back with a hockey stick, getting slashed in the head with a teammate's skate and suffering his fifth concussion of the week. Sergei was told he should become serious about ballet when he excelled at the ballet exercises taught at hockey camp. As much as I hate to say it, I'm grateful about Sergei's freak accident and career ending injury, Sergei auditioning for the Bolshoi ballet gave me a pas de deux partner and a friend. Sergei told me that he auditioning was by chance as well. Sergei was going to the Academy to apply for a position as a janitor, which would provide him access to a studio to refine his technique, but when he saw that the Academy was holding auditions for new dancers he decided he should apply.

Me meeting Evgeni was kismet as well. When I was 8 I started taking ballet lessons at the local ballet studio which is across from the ice rink where Evgeni practiced, however despite having his sister, Galina, in the same ballet class with me we had never met. One day, I had stay after class because I had missed the past few lessons because I was sick with pneumonia, which was odd because I never get sick even now, and not only that our driver, Andrei, was late. I was tired of waiting around for Andrei so I walked to the rink, which my parents barred me from claiming the sport was "barbaric and ruthless" and far too rough and wild "for a lady, such as myself." The minute I walked into that rink my eyes were glued to the young boy with dark hair who just seemed to glide and fly over the ice, so gracefully it was like ballet. When practice was over, about 10 minutes later, he came up to me and we talked till Andrei came running into the rink telling me we had to go home. I remember that night I called Evgeni and we talked for hours about everything from his favorite color to my favorite food. We communicated through Galina and at night during our nighttime phone conversations. We developed a strong bond despite the only time we physically saw each other was after my ballet lessons or at school. I was young then maybe 10 or 11 years old but I knew that I wanted to marry Evgeni. I can remember every moment that I spent with Evgeni and every conversation we had. I even remember mama yelling at me when she saw the telephone bill at the end of the month. When she demanded to know who I was talking to, I simply told her I was talking to Galina and that I was helping her with her ballet. She seemed happy with my lie. So was I.


	3. America

I was jolted out of my reverie, by the sharp, almost shrill honk of the cab and I turned to see the blank, stoic face of the cab driver, "The fee is $48.35," he said rather sternly.

"Oh okay, do you take credit card?" I asked hoping and praying that he did because the only cash I had was in rubles.

Then his face flushed red with anger and he yelled, "Read the sign! They still teach you how to read in your country, right?"

I looked at the sign that read in bold, red letters: "**If you are going to pay with a credit card, please tell the driver at the beginning of the ride.**" Then the enraged driver proceeded to read, no scream what the sign said word for word.

"Look, I'm sorry but I don't have any cash! I only have my credit card!" I tried to reason.

Then the driver got out of the car and starts to call someone on his cell phone, "I'm calling the police!" he says sounding as if he had won some sort of battle.

"What! That is not necessary, I'm sure we can work something out!" I was distraught with the idea of being arrested in country I've only been in for two hours.

Then out of nowhere, this tall, blonde man with the most captivating blue eyes came up to us and asked, "What's going on here?"

Before I could even respond, the taxi driver exclaims, "This woman is trying to snake her way out of paying for her cab ride!"

"Look! Okay this is just a big misunderstanding, I didn't tell him that I was going to be paying with a credit card till after the trip and I don't have any cash, just some rubles," I explained more forcefully than I intended to.

The blonde guy scratches his chin, as he thinks, "I see… How about this, I'll pay the fee instead," he offers as he pulls out his wallet and begins pulling out some bills. The cab driver seemed rather pleased that he would be getting his money and agreed, "The fare is $48.35."

"Okay here you go," he hands him a $50 bill, "Keep the change." And with that the cabby happily hopped in his car and sped away.

"I'm sorry, I wish I could pay you back but I just got here and it's my first time in America and I don't have any cash and-"

"Don't worry about it, its cool, but if you really want to pay me back go out to dinner with me tonight, my name's Jordan, by the way," Jordan said with a sly smile.

"Uh, sure my name is Svetlana, what time do you want to pick me up?" I said nervously, going to dinner with strange men isn't what I was planning to do on my first night here.

"Is six, okay for you? I mean it's kind of early but maybe you can meet my teammates."

"Teammates?" I managed to choke out, I've only known this Jordan guy for 5 minutes and now I'm going to dinner with him and meet his teammates.

"I'm Jordan, Jordan Staal." He must have seemed my blank face, "You really don't know who I am? Your accent, its Russian right?"

"Yes, why?"

"Well, its just that isn't ice hockey kind of a big deal in Russia?"

"Yes and...?"

"I play for the Pittsburgh Penguins," He must have seen the confused look on my face because he continued, "The Penguins is the local NHL team."

I blushed with embarrassment "Oh! Sorry, I-I don't really follow the NHL that much, but six-six is fine, I live here by the way," I gestured to the brick, apartment building before us.

He chuckled, "I figured," Jordan glanced at his watch, "Sorry but I've got to go, but six o'clock tonight dress casual,"

"Bye nice meeting you," I barely managed to get out but by the time I said it Jordan became just another face in a crowd. I look up at the daunting apartment complex and took a deep breathe before taking my bags and going inside. But before I could go inside the doorman, a large, African man stops me and asks who I'm looking for, "Oh I'm Svetlana, the new dancer with the Pittsburgh Ballet Company. I'm supposed to look for Anna?"

"Oh you're her, Anna's been waiting for you at the lobby, and I'm Robinson, you can just call me Rob."

"Thank you," I couldn't help but smile in relief, _I guess not everyone in America is so bad_. As I crossed the threshold, almost instantly I was spotted by whom I assuming to be Anna, she was petite with pale blonde hair that was as bouncy as she was and blue eyes she was classically pretty, she had this aura to her that just exuded confidence. She ran up to me and gave me a hug, which surprised me, but I returned the hug so as not to make it too awkward.

"Hi, I'm Anna, you look much nicer than the girl before you." I was not sure what to make of that statement. I hoped it was a compliment.

"Umm thank you, I'm Svetlana."

"Is that your only bag?" I nod as Anna leads me to our apartment. "Alicia, your other roommate, is out but she should be back soon, she's a part-time hair and make-up artist." I can only nod as Anna kept talking about Alicia and the company and the lack of straight, male dancers, which I couldn't help but giggle at. "Oh, here we are apartment 117," she opened the door with her key and she opened the door with a flourish, "Here we are, my- no, our humble abode." I walked in, the apartment wasn't that bad, larger than I thought it would be, "Here's the kitchen, the living room, down the hallway is my room, Alicia's and one of the two bathrooms. That room right there is yours and lucky you, you get the private bathroom but you must share the tub with us!" I nod as I continue to look around the apartment until my eyes fell on a jar that's halfway filled with coins and bills, "That's our spa jar, everyday we put our change and leftover grocery money in their and when we get enough we go to the spa down Baker's Rd. and we all get mani-pedis."

When I merely nodded again Anna piped up and said, "You don't talk much do you? Well, all the better I guess people say between me and Alicia we talk enough for the whole floor."

I laughed, "I'm going to go unpack." As I walked into my room I noticed that the walls were painted a soft seafoam green, there was a closet, a queen bed with a nightstand with an alarm clock and a vase of fake flowers, a vanity and an adjoining bathroom. I looked at the clock it read 2:00 PM, 10:00 PM in Russia, I should sleep but I had to unpack so I did just that and I took a nap for about an hour when Anna started jumping up and down to wake me up because Alicia had just arrived from a photo shoot. As I stumbled out of my room, I noticed who I assumed to be Alicia she had wavy brown hair and olive skin with a slightly curvy body. "Hi, I'm Svetlana and I'm assuming you're Alicia,"

"How'd you know?" she responded playfully, "You know you would look so good with some lighter hair and bangs."

"Thanks," I blushed at her intent study of me and my face, "Oh is it okay if I go out tonight?"

"Oooh, hot date?" Alicia questioned.

"Umm I'm not sure, I met this guy and he helped me out with this really mean cab driver and to repay him we're going to dinner and meet some of his teammates after," I responded.

"Really, what's his name?" Anna inquired.

"Jordan," I answered, hoping that only a first name would suffice, that they wouldn't know who he was.

"Jordan, hmm has a good flow to it, does he have a last name?" Alicia probed with a thoughtful look.

I paused and thought trying to remember his last name, "Stam? No, Stalk? Staal? Yeah that's it Staal." Then I saw the shocked looks on their faces and I knew they knew who he was.

"Wait, Jordan Staal as in the Pittsburgh Penguins, Jordan Staal!" Alicia exclaimed.

"No way! And you're going to meet his teammates!" Anna squealed.

"You might meet Sidney Crosby!" Alicia gushed.

"Forget Sidney, what about Evgeni Malkin!" Anna retorted.

My eyes widened at his name, "Evgeni Malkin!" I blurted out, "I know him! He lived in the same city as me and he went to the ice skating rink across from the dance studio I went to." _He's the reason why I came_, I thought but never dared to speak aloud.

"Oh my God!" They said in perfect unison. "We are going to help you get ready! What time did you say he was coming over?"

"Umm six?" I managed to say before being dragged into my room by the beauty squad.

"Six that gives us three hours! With a body like hers and eyes like that three hours is more than enough!" Alicia raved. As Anna hunted through my closet for an "appropriate" outfit and from what I could deduce the outfit was neither appropriate nor an outfit rather a skirt that was too small for me and a halter-top.

"Umm guys its okay, I can pick out my own outfit and do my own hair." I tried to rationalize, hoping to regain some control.

Anna frowned, "Well, I guess you can choose your own outfit. My shift starts in an hour anyways," I suddenly felt a pang of guilt as I had obviously hurt her feelings.

"Look Anna, I'm sorry it's just that Jordan said casual and I just want to be comfortable." I said in hopes of ameliorating some of the pain I caused her.

"Don't look so guilty, I guess I'll just have to pick out you're outfit next time." Anna reassured me.

"Now me on the other hand, I have nothing lined up this evening other than a date with Jack Bauer and a biological weapon," Alicia said, "Don't worry I'll keep it natural," she whispered, "Not everyone here is as over the top as Anna."

By 5:50 I was dressed in a pair of dark slim cut jeans and a green cashmere sweater that clung to my body and 'curves' with a black lace camisole underneath and I wore some basic flat suede boots that tucked my jeans into and came up to my knees. My hair was done in waves and my make up was light natural with some shimmer around my eyes and a natural lip. Then as I starred at myself in mirror, tugging on my sweater, running my fingers through my hair, fidgeting when I heard the doorbell ring and all I could think was '_He's early!_'


	4. Stronger

I stayed in the room, which I think was a bad choice because I was letting the nerves get to me, hearing Anna greet Jordan with a cloyingly sweet tone. "This is ridiculous, I just met the guy," Chastising myself.

"Svetlana! Jordan's here!" I heard Anna's voice rang out, somehow in the last three hours her voice had gotten more grating. I walked out tentatively as I saw Jordan on the sofa with Anna, in her waitress uniform, and Alicia nowhere in sight. Jordan was wearing dark jeans and a blue button up shirt with the first few buttons left open. I couldn't help but notice how the blue of his shirt made the blue of his eyes even more intense. Let me explain something about why Anna's a waitress, dancers don't get paid much. Unless you're one of the principals or a soloist, so if you're in the corps like Anna and Alicia you have to take a second job to pay the bills.

"Umm, hi," I say my voice barely above a whisper. Both of them turned around, with a slightly annoyed look on Anna's face.

"Oh, hi!" Jordan said with a look of relief on his face. "Well lets go, we have to get going if we want to make our reservation!" he said tapping his watch. I can only nod as Jordan walked to the door, with me in tow.

When we got out the door the first thing Jordan said, "What took you so long?" he must have noticed my perplexed expression, "Your roommate was talking up a storm in there. I think it was her way of flirting with me,"

"Oh well, you were early," I replied shyly as we walked down to his car.

"Yeah, yeah. Now you're quiet, didn't seem that way when you yelled at that cabby," I felt my cheeks flush a shade of light strawberry. "I guess I'll just have to get that girl out of you tonight," he added with a smirk. I could feel his eyes roam over me, "You look-"

"Overdone?" I suggest as I slip into the passenger seat of his car.

"No, beautiful." He corrected as I, once again, blushed, "You're cute when you blush," he commentated, making me flush a deeper shade of pink.

"So where are we going?" I ask trying to change the subject.

"Oh just this little, quiet café, you don't mind right?"

"No, not at all," I say with a smile, the quieter the better.

"Maybe after you can meet my teammates,"

I only nodded before adding, "So you guys are kind of a big deal here?"

"Yeah, kind of," Jordan chuckled, "How about you? Talk about yourself. The only thing I know about you is that you're name's Svetlana no last name, and that you share an apartment with an overly, talkative waitress."

"Oh, well my name's Svetlana Vasilyevna Khitrova." I add awkwardly.

"Svetlana… Hmm how about Sveta? Can I call you Sveta?" I nod in response, I've only had one nickname, Lana, and _**he**_ gave it to me. "Keep going, what are you here for? How do you know what's her name? Anna?"

"Anna," I confirmed, "I don't really know her. I came here from Russia on an exchange program with the Bolshoi Ballet, I'm a ballerina, one of the ballerinas here goes to Russia and I come here in her place. Today's my first day in America." I looked over at Jordan and he nodded.

"Ballet, that's cool I guess, you know you're English is really good, have you lived in Russia your whole life?"

"Yeah, but my Dad's from England and he speaks only English to me, and Mama only speaks both Russian and English to me and the instructors at the Academy spoke only Russian and French. So I'm pretty fluent in all three."

"Keep going, any siblings?"

"No, just me. Mama was an only child and Papa too. How about you? Any siblings?" I ask eagerly trying to get the attention off of me.

"Don't think you'll get out of this that easy," he must have read my mind, "But I do have siblings, three brothers, all of them play hockey, and the youngest one, Jared plays in the OHL, but the rest of us play in the NHL. I'm the second youngest."

"That must be hard on your parents, when you play each other."

"Not really, I mean it's always fun to play your brother, it's like another reason to win." He said as the car came to halt, "We're here. We're continuing this conversation inside." Jordan stated, almost demanded. Outside the window I saw exactly what Jordan described, a little Italian restaurant which by the name on the sign was called Mamma D's, it looked like a place only a local could know.

We entered the café and seated ourselves, as a sign on the wall said, "You lied, we don't have reservations," I couldn't help but tease.

"I needed to get out of there!" Jordan defended. "Your roommate talks way too much." We ordered our food, chicken alfredo with garlic bread for me and a feast for Jordan. He must have seen my eyes widen at his long order, "Hey I'm an athlete. I was half expecting you not to order anything but salad."

"Why? Because I'm a dancer?"

"Well, actually, yeah,"

I sighed, "We do eat, we need energy to train."

"Okay so tell me more about yourself."

"What is there to tell? Ballet has been my life since forever, Mama was a ballerina and Babushka was a ballerina too. Even Papa's mama, Grandmamma, was a ballerina in the Royal Ballet. So I was in classes before I could even walk. When I was ten, I started at the Vaganova Ballet Academy. I was 17 when I graduated, then I went to the Bolshoi Academy and now here I am."

"Sounds intense,"

"It was but I had it easier, I was a legacy. 'How could the Bolshoi not take the daughter of Aliya Kapranova and the granddaughter of Svetlana Bessonova?' at least that's how most girls saw it. You know it is hard and it is intense but that is one of the reasons I love it so much."

"You know I never noticed it before but your eyes light up when you talk about ballet. Your eyes, are they naturally that color?"

"Yeah, from Dad's side, they're his trademark, I guess mine too. Mama used to say that the only thing that I got from Papa was his eyes and his height. My Mama is not that tall only 5'1" but Papa is maybe just as tall as you, maybe taller." The food came and ended our conversation, which oddly enough I didn't want to end. We ate talking here and there, finding out all about his teammates, his brothers, and everything else important or not. While, he found out about Alicia, Sergei and some things I wouldn't have dreamed telling someone I just met that afternoon but I couldn't bring myself to tell him about Evgeni.

After insisting that I pay as a way to pay him back for earlier today, "I don't think I've ever talked this much to anyone, ever," I confessed, wondering where the meek, shy ballerina had went, and who this new person was who replaced her.

"You know that we haven't really talked _that_ much," Jordan replied, emphasizing "that."

"It's probably a cultural thing." Usually, I would have stopped there but for some reason I felt compelled to continue, I don't know if it was the genuine interest that played in those impossibly blue orbs or if it was because I wanted- no, needed- to confide in someone, "I've always been a private person but in Russia your business is everyone else's business. Being private is frowned upon, mainly because then people begin to think that you're keeping secrets, and well secrets are bad in Russia."

"Secrets are bad almost everywhere," He pointed out, jokingly.

"I guess but here being quiet or private is okay. In Russia, there's a kind of stigma, you're immediately labeled as a loner or antisocial. Here it's alright." I couldn't explain to him how I felt about or how it was so different. I found myself just sitting in the passenger seat of his car staring out the window, we were still parked but I was so frustrated with the cultural barrier between us, frustrated that he was joking while I was being so serious. "I just don't know how to explain this to you."

"Sveta, don't worry, I understand." The softness of his voice made me turn to face him, I found myself staring at those eyes again. Playfulness and curiosity weren't there but something else, a softness, a sense of caring. 'I understand' those two words seemed to take a sledgehammer to the wall between us. But still I felt so caught, caught between these caring, gentle blue eyes that I find myself gazing into now and those tender, affectionate brown eyes that I've loved for so long.

Jordan cleared his throat and I reluctantly tore my eyes away from his and looked out the window, hoping that he wouldn't see the crimson blush on my cheeks. "Its pretty late, do you want me to take you home?" I noticed that the clock on has dashboard read, 10:00 PM. Had four hours really gone by that fast?

"Yeah, that would be great," What I really wanted to say was 'No, can I meet your teammates?' but I new that tomorrow would be my first day with the Pittsburgh Ballet Company and a late night out with hockey players wouldn't be a prudent choice. The car ride seemed entirely too short, as it seemed within minutes we were back at my apartment building. Jordan was the perfect gentleman; he opened the door for me and walked me to the door, with Robinson in the lobby watching us.

"I'd go up with you, but that could be risky for my health," Jordan joked, which I couldn't help but smile at.

"No its fine, maybe we should hang out sometime, just call me or something," I gave a quick kiss on the cheek and a hug before going inside. Not before hearing Jordan laugh about how affectionate Russians are.

"A good night?" A deep, bass voice asked. I turned finding that the voice belonged to Robinson. "Now, I know you're new here, this being your first day and all, but don't think I don't you know who that guy is. That's Jordan Staal. Be careful of him, he's a heartbreaker and don't forget the rules."

"What rules?"

"You'll find out soon enough," was all he said as he returned to his post, this time outside.

When I had gotten back to the apartment, I was relieved that neither of the girls where back from whatever they were doing on a Sunday night. When I was washing up and getting ready for bed, I found myself staring at my reflection. With my make up washed off and in my pajamas, the girl in the reflection didn't look any different. She had the same hair, the same nose, the same mouth, the same ey-. Wait, something in her eyes, was different. They were still golden but they had different cast to them, something unexplainable. Something that seemed almost… strong.


	5. Russian Time

Author's Note: I want to thank everybody so much for his or her support. I didn't think my story would get any readers or reviews. So thank you for making my day!

I want to apologize for not putting anything out in like forever but I hope you enjoy this chapter. It doesn't have a lot of Jordan but it definitely shows more about Svetlana and her upbringing. I want this to be not just a hockey-centric story but also something with more facets and dimensions.

Russian Time

I went to bed at around 11, which is quite late for me; at the Bolshoi it was lights out at 9:30. Despite the late hour, neither of the girls has come back from wherever they were. I closed my eyes willing myself to sleep but I found myself waking up at random hours, probably due to jetlag. At first I woke at 2:31 AM, 10:31 AM in Russia. Again at 4:09 AM, 12:09 in Russia. I tossed and turned for a couple more hours. I decided to get up when my alarm clock read, 6:19 AM, 2:19 PM in Russia. I had to be at the Theatre by 8 despite the fact that classes start 10:30; I had to be early because I was new. I decided to take a shower and make breakfast for the girls. I took a long, hot shower to relax. After finishing up my shower and letting my naturally straight hair air dry, I changed into a traditional, plain black leotard with a camisole neckline and pink tights. Black leotard and pink tights were the dress code at both the Bolshoi and the Vaganova School, so they were all I had. I slicked my dark brown hair back into a high bun and packed my dance bag, a black duffel bag with my name sewn on to it, with extra pointe shoes, lots of hair pins, a water bottle, a first aid kit, an extra leotard, extra tights, leg warmers, a change of clothes, make up, and a face towel. I slipped on a light blue wrap over my leotard and a pair of comfortable grey sweat pants, as well. Before leaving my room, I checked my alarm clock, which read, 6:41 AM, 2:41 PM in Russia.

After packing my bag and getting dressed, I wandered to the kitchen to start breakfast, but those hopes were dashed when the pantry was empty save for some oatmeal and bags of trail mix, which I took and placed in my dance bag for a snack and the only things in the refrigerator was fruits and cheese. I decided to make some oatmeal with fruit, a typical dancer's breakfast. I was about halfway through with the oatmeal when Alicia stumbled in to kitchen wearing a black leotard with a halter neckline and a twist front.

"Good morning, I was going to make you guys breakfast, but you don't have any food,"

"Oh, well we don't really eat much," Alicia responded, she must have seen my worried expression because she quickly added, "we usually go out." Alicia pulled on her sweats and t-shirt, "Weird though, we went shopping for groceries on Friday," she muttered to herself.

When I finished my oatmeal, I washed my bowl and asked, "So, where's Anna?"

"Oh, she'll meet us there. I don't think she came home."

I merely nodded again as I imagined all the possibilities to why Anna didn't come back last night, I gulped. I was worried about her, even if I had only met her yesterday. She's my roommate so I have to care. I shook off the feeling, knowing I would see her at class, so I changed the subject. "So, where were you last night?"

"I went out to meet a couple of friends for some drinks," Alicia responded with a smile as she grabbed her dance bag, "We should get going, the bus gets here at 7:15 sharp," I took a glance at the clock on the wall, it read 7:02 AM, 3:02 PM in Russia.

I followed Alicia as we went out to the bus stop that was right in front of our apartment, and luckily we got there just in time. We sat next to each other towards the back of the bus, "Alicia, can I ask you a question?"

"You kind of just did, but okay," She joked.

"Well, last night when I came back from my dinner with Jordan, Robinson said something about rules, and, um, what rules?"

"Oh, that's right you went to dinner with Jordan Staal, how was it? But what Rob is talking about is that ever since, Mikhail, the old director, retired the new guy who replaced him, Terence Orr, he's a really nice guy but he's super strict. Like, since a lot of the dancers live in the same apartment building as us, you have to be in the apartment by 1:00 AM. Rob tells Terrence who gets in late, who gets in early, who leaves, who doesn't, but here's a secret. If you think you're going to come late, don't come back because if Rob doesn't see you, he can't tell Mr. Orr. Rob'll just assume that you came in during his break," Alicia says in a hushed voice.

"Is that why Anna didn't come back? She wasn't going to make curfew?" I say relieved at the thought that she had not come back because she had missed curfew, but I was stilled worried about where she had spent the night. "In Russia we had a curfew too, but it was much earlier, 9:30 PM. Dinner with Jordan was good, we went to this Italian place."

"Yup. 9:30! What time did your classes and rehearsals end?" her voice rising a whole octave.

"Classes and rehearsals ended at 6:30 and then we have dinner at 7:00 and then its lights out at 9:30," I replied simply, it never struck me as odd that 9:30 was early.

"Two and half hours! What can you do in two and a half hours?"

"Well, usually we just relax and rest, we lived there, we ate there, we took classes there, we performed there, we did everything there and we weren't allowed to go out except on the weekends. So we were pretty tired by the time dinner came."

"Hmm, that's crazy! I don't even think clubs open at 9:30," Alicia said more to herself than to me. We didn't talk much after that, we rode the bus in silence, which I was glad for. I checked my watch for the time, 7:29 AM, 3:29 PM in Russia. Shortly after the bus came to a halt, "This is our stop," Alicia said as she grabbed me by the elbow and led me out of the bus.

There before me was a truly opulent building; the sheer size of it and the intricate decoration of the architecture was awe worthy. "This is it, this is where we perform and take our classes. This is where we will be spending an upwards of 30 hours a week. Come on are you gonna keep staring at or go inside?" I blushed and I followed Alicia inside of the theatre, going through the stage door, which leads to a maze of hallways, some going to the lobby, some going to the stage, others going to the studios in the back. "We'll find Terrence and he'll tell you all the stuff you need to know," Alicia said. We, more like Alicia, spotted Terrence talking to one of the crew guys and we headed right to him. "Hi, Mr. Orr, this is Svetlana the Bolshoi girl," Alicia said in a sweet tone. Terrence Orr looked like a nice man, like someone's uncle or dad. He was chubby from having retired years ago and had a bristly mustache, he was balding and his hair was streaked with gray.

"Ah, nice to meet you Svetlana, I'm Terrence Orr, the director here. Now let's go to my office so we can discuss your future here," I looked back at Alicia with a petrified look on my face but Alicia gave me an encouraging wink and thumbs up, which made me smile. Mr. Orr led me to his office, which was a good-sized room with lush carpet, posters of past productions and pictures from his dancing days hanging on the wall. There was a large, dark wooden desk with intricate carvings on the legs and two chairs, as well as plenty of filing cabinets. "Please sit, now Svetlana… What was your last name again?"

"Khitrova, Svetlana Khitrova."

"Wait; are you Aliya Kapranova's daughter?"

"Yes," I respond casting my eyes downward my cheeks flushing, I could never seem to escape my family's legacy.

"Well, that's wonderful! Ah, it seems just like yesterday, when I danced with your mother, she was a guest at ABT. She was a wonderful Giselle." Mr. Orr's eyes become glassy and wistful as though he was reliving a past memory, "It's always nice to have new talent on board. Our upcoming productions are the fall showcase and The Nutcracker. Our casting of The Nutcracker is based on what your teachers' opinions of you, your audition and how you do at the fall showcase. So, that makes your audition for the fall showcase very important. Auditions for the showcase, and all dancers must audition, are at the end of the month. The fall showcase consists of group work and solos, of all styles, it sort of an introduction to our performing season. We expect you here at 10:30 AM, no later. Classes usually last till lunch then we usually have rehearsals but since we don't have a show coming up for a while, so you will be taking a pas de deux class, which will end at around 3. This is our off-season so there are not that many rehearsals but wait till after the fall showcase, you're rehearsal schedule will be packed and they'll replace your pas de deux class.

"Also, we have a strict dress code here, black leotard, skirt optional, with pink tights but on Fridays and Saturdays- Saturdays are half days- we allow you to wear whatever you want as long as it is appropriate and danceable. Hip alignment belts and leg warmers are allowed but not required. Hair must be off the face and neck, in any fashion. I also have a list of rules that must be followed since you are living in the Company apartment." He handed me a paper with a list of rules the first few being:

1. Adhere to the curfew, which is 1:00 AM

2. Do not bring boys back to the apartment

3. Keep partying and drinking to a minimum

4. Smoking is not allowed in the apartment building and in the theatre; if you must smoke go outside

5. Do not be late to your classes

Skipping down the long list of rules the last one read:

Remember that you are representing the Company with all of your actions.

"We have a three strikes policy, where if you are caught breaking these rules three times you will be kicked out of the apartment. Now run along to class, don't want to be late or that'll be a strike," Mr. Orr tried to joke. I forced a smile as I nodded and headed out the door. The moment I got out the door, I realized I had no idea where my class was. After wondering for I have no idea how long, I check my watch again; it read 8:48 AM, 4:48 PM in Russia. That was when I collided with a solid mass, falling to the floor.

"_Lo Siento_, I should've been paying attention to where I was going," The solid mass, was apparently a male dancer, he was kind of cute, he had dark, wavy hair and gorgeous brown eyes, he had this kind of Latin lover appeal to him. He spoke with an accent and I couldn't help but notice that he was tall, nearly a head taller than me. He wore the typical male dancer wear, black tights and a white shirt but the sleeves were torn off, showing off his toned arms. Maybe it was the ripped sleeves or the visible tattoo on the inside of his wrist, whatever it was he screamed _rebel_. He helped me up before giving me a once over, "Are you new here?"

"Yeah, I'm the exchange dancer, the one from Russia. I'm Svetlana Khitrova."

"Alejandro, Alejandro Diaz. Sorry about the whole crashing into you thing,"

"Don't worry about it, but could you show where Fonteyn Studio is?"

"Sure of course," He took my hand led me to a hallway lined with doors that have plaques telling you the name of the room. "This is the Fonteyn Studio," Alejandro says gesturing to the door the left of us, "Hasta luego, I have a class to get to."

"Yeah, I'll see you later," I replied, watching him walk away down the hall entering a room. I took a deep breath and checked my watch again, 9:13 AM, 5:13 PM in Russia. I tentatively opened the door, to reveal a large, open space, with ceiling to floor windows instead of a wall on one side of the studio, giving an impressive view of the Cultural District, and the wall opposite was all mirrors. The thin wooden barres were mounted onto the walls leaving a large, open space in the middle for across the floor work and a shiny, black grand piano sat in the corner with a young woman, maybe around my age, sitting behind it, looking as bored as can be.

"Svetlana! Over here!" I hear a familiar feminine voice call, I turn to see Alicia stretching and chatting with a group of girls. I walk over to her, nervously shifting my weight, adjusting the strap of my dance bag on my shoulder. "Come and stretch with us," Alicia says scooting over to make some room for me in her circle of friends. A smile spreads across my face and I take a seat next to her, slipping on my pointe shoes and leg warmers and taking off my sweats and wrap. I notice that the circle is made up of three other girls, all wildly different from each other. "Guys, this Svetlana, me and Anna's new roommate, she's from the Bolshoi."

"I'm Georgia," A sweet, rosy cheeked redhead with a green eyes and freckles says with a slight Southern-accent.

"Hi,"

"Martha, after Martha Graham," A slender, mousy haired blonde with brown eyes says.

"Hello,"

"Leah, Leah Chang," says a short dancer with dark, almost black hair, and dark brown almond shaped eyes that were framed with dark lashes.

"Nice to meet you, guys,"

"So is it true? That all the dancers in Russia are handpicked? How does it work?" Georgia asks with a look of wonderment in her eyes.

"Yeah, it's true. When you audition for the school they have you and five other girls walk into a room and they check you."

"Check you?" Her emerald eyes were wide with curiosity, eager to learn more about the Russian school.

"Yeah, they check the height of your jumps, your turnout and your proportions. Then whoever doesn't pass is sent home and then who's left gets checked by the a doctor, to check your eyes and ears and your general health, it gets as specific as muscle texture. And those who aren't right are cut. Then they test you musicality, coordination and responsiveness to choreography, those who make it through those tests stay, those who don't have to try again next year."

"And that's all done at how old?" By the expression Georgia had on her face, she was hanging on my every word.

"I was ten when I auditioned and that's the minimum,"

"Wow," Was all Georgia said and the other girls nodded in agreement as we continued to stretch, I checked my wrist watch again before slipping it into my bag, it read 9:43 AM, 5:43 PM in Russia. That was when Anna, walked into the studio, wearing a sweetheart neckline leotard with a gather in the front and a low back, a thin, red, shiny belt was slung on her hips acting more as a fashion statement than as an aide for her alignment, she was wearing sunglasses and her golden hair was braided in a crown on the top of her head, she looked like a Swedish milkmaid and the sunlight that poured in from the windows, made her blonde hair glow like a halo.

"Good night?" Alicia asks with a cheeky grin.

"Shut up," Anna mutters, pulling off her sunglasses, revealing her bloodshot blue eyes and the dark bags underneath them. "Did you bring the concealer?" She asks with sharpness in her voice, as she sits between Alicia and Leah, not even acknowledging my presence.  
"Yeah, here. Must not have been that good," Alicia jokes as she hands her the flesh-toned tube. Anna glares daggers at Alicia before sitting in front of the mirror to apply her make-up, concealing the evidence of last night.

I check the clock on the wall, it read 10:15 AM, 6:15 in Russian time. About five minutes later, the ballet mistress walks into the studio and Alicia pulls me to the barre as everyone else runs to the barre, even Anna, who hasn't even warmed up. The ballet mistress looks about early forties, her dark auburn hair, with some streaks of gray around her temples, pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck; she's wearing a long-sleeved black leotard with a high neckline and a dark brown wraparound skirt on her waist. She walks around the room scanning the dancers, her eyes stop at me. "You, you're new?" Her voice is much kinder than her cold appearance.

"Yes, I'm Svetlana Khitrova, from the Bolshoi."

"Ah, yes the daughter of Aliya Kapranova, I danced with your mother when I was at the Bolshoi. I am Madame Diana Stiefel," She says giving me a slight nod before continuing to walk around. After giving everyone a once over, making mental notes on everyone, she walks to the barre at the front of the room. "Okay ladies, we will start in first, demi plié, stretch, demi plié, stretch, full grand plié, return, port de bras forwards and back, repeat in second, fourth and fifth, and we will rise in a balance in fifth," Madame Stiefel says as she demonstrates the combination.

I take a deep breathe, as Madame Stiefel gives a nod to the pianist in the back, the sweet sound of the piano slowly drifts to me as we start the combination. I empty my mind of everything and simply focus on the music and moving my by body in time with the rhythm, making sure every movement is precise and expressive. Madame Stiefel begins the walk the room, watching our movements. "Long, lean lines Alicia," she comments as she walks past our row, "Head up, Leah," "Lovely port de bras, Anna," "Georgia, remember to pull up," She stops at me and looks at my feet, "Good turnout," she mutters as she continues to walk around the room. "Ladies, we will be doing across the floor now. Chassé, glissade, grand jeté, grand jeté, chaîné off," Madame Stiefel says demonstrating the combination.

"We go by the lines we were in during the barre," Alicia whispers to me as she pulls me closer to her and Anna. I nod and bite my lip while watching the other girls dance across the floor. They had such great lines and high extensions.

"We're next," Alicia whispers, rubbing my shoulder encouragingly. I take a deep breathe, trying to calm my nerves, as I stand with my feet in first position and my arms in third position.

"5, 6, 7, 8," Madame counts off as she claps the beat to us. As I begin the combination, I feel the nervousness disappear like a bad dream, my feet feel as though they barely skim the floor as I chassé and leap high into the air, I can't help but smile as I chaîné off the floor. Madame gives her critiques to us, "Georgia, work on your turnout, from the hips remember. Leah, keep your eyes up. What's the point of having your chin and head up if your eyes aren't? Alicia, lovely, high grand jeté but work on your turns. Anna, support your arms and don't be afraid do be expressive. Svetlana, beautiful work. Okay, ladies you are excused, remember auditions for the fall showcase are coming up, if you need help on your solo, come to the theatre in the afternoon." I can't help but beam at her praise as we rush to our bags to get ready for lunch.

"You're so lucky, that you have a perfect turnout," Georgia says to me, obviously frustrated with her critique, as we pull on our sweats and trade our pointe shoes for flats.

"Oh, well I've been working on it for a long time. In Russia, they only choose you if you have good turnout. But if you stretch your hip flexors and really focus on turning out from not only your hips but your thighs, then it will improve." I advise, "So, do you guys go out for lunch or is there a cafeteria?" I inquire as I check my watch, 12:03 PM, 8:03 PM in Russia.

"There's a cafeteria here all health food and stuff but you can go out, you just can't be late to your class. The food at the cafeteria is pretty good and its free,"

"Oh, okay," I reply.

"Leah, and I are going out for lunch, you're invited, too. Alicia, are you coming with us?" Georgia asks.

"Oh, no I think I'll stay here," Alicia responds.

"Svetlana?"

"No, its okay I think I'll just eat here with Alicia," I smile as the girls file out of the door, saying there goodbyes. I found it odd that Anna was left out and not even invited to there lunch, I looked over at Anna and saw her hunched over her bag as she changed into her street clothes. She looked exhausted. The concealer looked cakey under her eyes, making the dark bags even more obvious.

"Let's get lunch, I'm starved," Alicia says grabbing my hand, pulling me up and leading me to the cafeteria with Anna lagging behind us. The cafeteria was a large, grey room with concrete floors and lots of tables, which had a few dancers milling about. "Come on, let's get in line, I think I'll get soup, what about you guys?"

"I don't know, maybe a sandwich or something," I say absentmindedly as try and take in the menu filled with low-fat, low-carb, low-sugar, low-cholesterol options. I notice that Anna is biting her lip, staring down the food like it was the enemy. I pause as I take a tray and watch Alicia fill a bowl with chicken-noodle soup and eagerly fill her plate with fruits and vegetables, I take a turkey and cheese sandwich, a carton of yogurt and an apple but I can't help but notice how tentative Anna looks when she takes a single piece of grilled chicken and places it on her otherwise empty plate. We eat our lunch in silence as Anna cuts up her chicken breast, first in half, then into quarters, then in to sixteenths, then into even smaller pieces.

"What are you staring at?" Anna says sharply.

"No-nothing," I reply rattled by the venom in her voice. I continue to eat my lunch and Anna pokes at some of her chicken.

"What time do we have to get to class?" I ask, checking my watch, 12:23 PM, 8:23 PM in Russia.

"1:00," Alicia replies nonchalantly, "Are you going to stay to work on your solo?" directing her question more at me than at Anna.

"Maybe, I don't really have anything,"

"Do you at least know what music you're going to use?"

"Nope, probably something more on the classical side. You?"

"I have this great song, it's a tango, it's going to be hot,"

"I'm sure it will be." I say with a giggle. If there was a ballerina who could pull off a sexy solo, it would be Alicia. "I still need to think about a song. How about you Anna? Are you going to stay to work on your solo?"

She narrowed her eyes as she dropped her napkin over her plate covering her barely eaten chicken, "Yes," she answers tersely, "I'm going to the bathroom. I'll meet you at class,"

I shoot Alicia a look, but Alicia shakes her head and gives me a look that says 'leave her alone.' "Well, let's get going, so we can stretch out," Alicia says, changing the subject. I checked my watch again, 12:35 PM, 8:35 PM in Russia, before we picked up our dance bags and headed to the Gregory Studio for our pas de deux class.

On our way to the studio, I couldn't help but think about Anna's strange behavior at lunch, "Is she always like that?" I ask Alicia.

"Who?"

"Anna, is she always weird like that around food?"

The look on Alicia's face was one of confusion before thoughtfully replying, "I don't know, I haven't really noticed. But she has changed ever since the talk."

"The talk?"

"Well, Anna would kill me if she found I was telling you this but, I think you should know. You see, Anna was born and raised here in Pittsburgh, she went the Pittsburgh Ballet Academy and from there she was picked to join the Company. Mikhail, the old director, loved Anna, he loved her technician like style, so he promoted her to soloist. But then, Mikhail was replaced with Mr. Orr and he didn't like Anna's lack of emotion and thought she looked wooden and cold, so she was demoted to the back of the corps. It was like a slap to the face for Anna. One minute she was dancing roles like winter, in Cinderella, and the next she's in the back of the corps for Swan Lake. About a couple weeks ago, Anna and Mr. Orr had this long talk in his office about how her teachers think she isn't improving and that she needs to work harder if she wants to move up the ranks and that she could be replaced by any of the graduating dancer."

"Oh," was all I could muster and I suddenly felt bad for Anna, rejection is something that one never gets used to and every dancer shudders at the thought of being replaced.

"Don't worry about her okay? She's a big girl and she can take care of herself," Alicia responded to the sullen look on my face.

I continued to stretch before checking my watch 12:49 PM, 8:49 PM in Russia. I looked around and noticed that a lot more dancers had come into the studio, including Anna who appeared to be swallowing copious amounts of breath mints and Alejandro who was coolly chatting with another male dancer. A man, who looked about early-30's, with sharp, handsome features and dark hair, walked into the studio and met by a chorus of greetings ranging from, "Hey man!" to "What's up?" I turned to Alicia with a perplexed look, "That's Charlie, the pas de deux instructor. He's super cool." Alicia said with a grin as we walked to the barre to warm up and Mr. Murphy followed us

"Hello, I'm Charlie Murphy, the pas de deux teacher here. You're new yes?" Mr. Murphy said with a grin, extending his hand.

"Hi, I'm Svetlana Khitrova, the exchange dancer from Russia," I respond shaking his hand.

"Ah, yes I've heard a lot about you, I can't wait to work with you." He replied with a genuine grin, "You're quite tall, I think we'll have to partner you with Alejandro. How tall are you exactly?"

"5'9" almost 5'10"," I reply blushing.

"Yes, I think Alejandro would be a good match for you. Yo, Alex come over here!" Mr. Murphy yelled across the studio, something that would never happen in a studio in Russia.  
Alejandro jogged over to us, "Yeah, what's up?"

"You will be partnering with Ms. Khitrova now,"

"_Bueno_," Alejandro remarked with a cocky grin on his face. Mr. Murphy smirked and winked, as if he was in on a secret joke, before walking to the front of the class and clapping his hands together, clearing his throat, getting everyone's attention. I scanned the classroom and noticed that everyone was partnered up.

"We have a new dancer with us today, Svetlana Khitrova, she is from the land that has given us Baryshnikov and Pavlova and she will be partnering with Alejandro." I could feel everyone's eyes burning on me, my cheeks flushed a shade of deep pink and I looked down at the floor as if the wood had suddenly become very interesting. "Okay enough embarrassment lets dance!" Mr. Murphy said with a clap and he demonstrated the combination we will be practicing with his assistant.

The rest of the class was a blur, full of laughter and interesting choreography. Mr. Murphy's, who everyone else calls Charlie, style is much more contemporary and modern, a stark contrast to Madame Stiefel's class. He used an iPod dock instead of the piano which sat in the corner of the studio collecting dust, the music he chose was not classical, it was a mélange of easy listening and pop songs which Alejandro told me the artists were John Mayer and Lady Gaga. The atmosphere was casual and humorous, with playful banter between Charlie and some of the other dancers. Charlie was open to our opinions of his choreography and music choice. I don't think I've ever laughed so much in a dance class.

"Okay, guys good work today. Remember if you need help on your solo my colleagues and I will be in theatre to help you. We all want you to succeed." Charlie informed us before we were excused.

"Alicia, I think I'll go back to the apartment," I say as I check the wall clock, 3:02 PM, 11:02 PM in Russia.

"Oh okay, just take the bus back to the apartment. Hurry, the bus will be at the stop at 3:15."

"Okay, I'll see you back at the apartment," I say before jogging out of the studio to make the bus. As I slide into a seat towards the middle of the bus, another person slides in next to me.

"Hey partner," I hear a familiar Latin voice. I turn and see a smiling Alejandro wearing a hooded sweatshirt and sweat pants.

"Hi," I reply shyly.

"You know, you're one of the best partners I've had in a while,"

"Thanks, you're pretty good yourself," I say looking out the window, trying to hide the strawberry blush on my cheeks.

"Thanks." Alejandro said, the confidence oozing from his smooth, deep voice and when I turned back to him I saw the arrogant smirk that played on his full lips. "Which apartment do you live in?"

"117? What about you?"

"142, I live on the floor above yours. If you ever need anything don't be afraid to come up,"

"I will remember that. I guess you don't need help with your solo?"

"Nah, I've got the whole thing sorted out. It'll be a bit more contemporary. The story is gonna be about the end of a relationship from the guy's point of view. I'm guessing you don't need help with your solo either,"

"Actually, I have nothing right now, not even music. That is why I'm going to the apartment so I can start listen to some music and start choreographing."

"Well, if you need any help, just call me," Alejandro says with a smile and a wink. I can't help but smile back as the bus jerks to a halt. "This is our stop," he says standing up offering his arm chivalrously and I oblige and loop my arm through his as we walked to the apartment building.

"Hello Rob, how was your day?" Alejandro says kindly.

"Great, thank you Alex. Good day Miss Khitrova," Robinson replies.

"Hello, Robinson," I reply and I can't help but shake the look that Robinson is giving me. I can only wonder what he's thinking, just yesterday I was out with Jordan Staal and now I'm here walking arm in arm with Alejandro. I glance at my watch nervously, 3:28 PM, 11:28 PM Russian time, as I enter the elevator with Alejandro, pressing our respective floor numbers. The elevator makes a ding as it reaches my floor, "Bye Alejandro, it was really great meeting you. See you at class tomorrow."

"_Hasta luego_ Svetlana Khitrova, good luck on your solo," Alejandro bids as the elevator doors close.

I can't help but beam as I walk to my apartment and take a quick shower before lying on my bed and pulling out my laptop. I checked my watch again; it read 3:48 PM, 11:48 PM in Russia.

My laptop was halfway through turning on when my cell phone starts ringing. There was one new text message, from Jordan. It read: "Вы хотите прийти на вечеринку в моей штаны? (You want to come to the party in my pants?) If that doesn't say "You want to come and get some coffee later," then I have some serious pounding to do on my teammates." I couldn't help but laugh at what the text had actually said before checking the clock on my phone. Since I hadn't changed it from Russian time, it read 11:42 PM. I quickly changed it to 3:42 PM Pittsburgh time.


	6. My All

Short, kind of a filler again, but life's been hectic with school starting last week. Experimenting with perspective, so tell me what you think of it. If you prefer the third person or Svetlana's point of view. Alicia's music (.com/watch?v=9Y-VJKrbcgU) if you were wondering and Anna's music (.com/watch?v=YtW64XKUma4). Tell me what you think! Reviews are loved. I also want to thank everyone who reviewed for motivating me to update this.

Thank you, Pensgirl, Mahone-chic-89, gsgsg, TiffanyAllstar, JemKay, and Bassgirl95!

I quickly texted back my reply: "Sure, what time?" I felt giddy with the thought of seeing Jordan again and soon enough he texted me back.

"How about now? Practice is over. Are your roommates there?"

"Now is perfect. No."

"Great, I'll come up."

"Don't come up I'll meet you outside. Text me when you get here." I wanted to meet Jordan outside because I was afraid of what Robinson would think and what he would tell Mr. Orr. I changed into something a bit more presentable than my tattered Metallurg Magnitogorsk shirt. I decided to wear a simple black skirt and a grey tank top with some casual flats.

After I had changed and grabbed my purse, my cell started to ring it was a text message from Jordan, "Outside. Waiting." I grinned and dashed to the elevators and made my way down the stairs in record time. I noticed that as I left Robinson wasn't at his usual post, he wasn't outside either and I let a sigh of relief, knowing that he wasn't watching.

"Sveta! Over here!" I hear the familiar voice that was unmistakably Jordan Staal call from behind me. I grin from ear to ear as I jog to him.

"So where are we going?" I ask curiously.

"Oh this place a few blocks away and that is why we will be walking. Don't want you too get spoiled now," Jordan joked.

"Oh yeah, between the bus and the taxi, I am much too spoiled for my own good," I add sarcastically as we start to walk to our destination.

"Are you sassing me?" Jordan asked with mock offense.

"Sassing?" I asked confused, saying sassing slowly and deliberately the word feeling foreign on my tongue, "What is sassing?"

"Sassing is like talking back," Jordan says scratching his head, unsure of how to explain it, "It's something more colloquial."

"Oh, okay. Then yes I think I am sassing you."

Jordan laughed, "So would you like to explain to me why I had to wait for you outside?"

I scrunched up my face before responding, "I think my doorman thinks I'm a курва."

"A what?"

"I don't know how to explain it. I don't know the word in English."

"Try to explain it,"

"It's a girl who likes to, well, you know," I explain blushing at the thought, "A girl who likes to sleep with a lot of men."

"A slut," Jordan said flatly as if the word was plain as day. Jordan wrinkled his nose, "Why would your doorman think you're a slut?"

"Slut, is that the word? Robinson thinks I'm a slut because he saw me with you last night and he saw me with one of the male dancers today when I was coming home." Jordan laughed but he quickly stopped when I gave him a sharp look.

"Don't be offended but two guys? Really, you think the doorman thinks you're a slut because he saw you with two guys. That's nothing, it's not like you have this harem of guys waiting on you."

"Yeah but I'm just worried about what he'll say to the Company."

"Sveta, don't worry about it, two guys is nothing compared to other people." I nodded taking some relief in what he said. We continued to walk till we came to a small but homey looking coffee shop with dark red accents and in large, gold letters read: "Nicholas Coffee CO." "This is it. This is the best cup of coffee-and peanuts- in Pittsburgh, the world famous Nicholas Coffee Company."

"It looks nice," I add taking in the quaint exterior.

"Well, the coffee's fantastic come on," Jordan said as we walked into the coffee shop. The first thing that I noticed was that one, long wall was taken up by jars and jars of coffee beans and the aroma was incredible, the air was redolent of rich, roasting coffee. We made a beeline for the counter to order, I was overwhelmed by the large selection ranging from plain to exotic, from standard dark roast to the unconventional chocolate raspberry flavored coffee.

"What's good here?"

"Everything," Jordan joked, "I'll order for you, don't worry."

"Hey Jordan," the cashier said, his name tag read 'Jeff,' "Who's the lady friend?"

"Oh this is Svetlana, she's a ballerina, she's gonna be a star," I looked down and blushed a light pink; by the look on his face he seems to enjoy making me blush. "Sveta this is Jeff, I guess you could say I'm a regular."

"Hi," I said shyly.

"Nice to meet you Svetlana, now what'll it be?"

"Two Amarettos and a bag of roasted peanuts,"

"Sure thing," Jeff said as he rang up our orders, I tried to pay but Jordan insisted that he pay citing that he invited me so he has to pay. We settled into a cozy, little table in the back of the café.

"So, was my Russian correct? Or do I have to pound on my teammates?" I thought back to his text, 'Вы хотите прийти на вечеринку в моей штаны?' and I couldn't help but laugh at how his teammates joke. I laughed so hard I couldn't even answer. I merely shook my head, no. Jordan's eyes grew wide, "Well, what did it say?"

I blushed, again, and managed to calm down, "Umm, you invited me to the party in your pants,"

Jordan's eyes widened, "Wh-what?"

"You invited me to party in your pants," I say as calmly as I possibly could.

Right before my eyes, Jordan went from shocked to anger, "Damn you Geno and Gonch!" Jordan cursed.

"Geno and Gonch?"

"My teammates they're the ones who gave me the translation," Jordan says his face darkening.

-Flashback-

I was sitting in the locker room getting dressed after having finished another grueling practice. Despite having been worked like a slave, I couldn't help but think about Sveta. Her dark brown hair which contrasted against her smooth, soft skin, those large, doe eyes of liquid gold only enhanced her innocent, sweet demeanor. Her slim, toned body and those legs that stretched for days on- Stop it Jordan. Stop it. She's just a friend; don't fuck things up by getting in her pants. Think of sweaty hockey players, sweaty hockey players. I checked the clock, 3:35 PM. A cup of coffee won't hurt, right? I mean, it would be a shame if she didn't get a chance to taste Nicholas's famous coffee. I held my phone in my hand unsure of what to text her, I had all these ideas floating in my head but all of them seemed to forward. "You, me, coffee?" I typed, no to demanding, I deleted it, "Coffee for two?" ugh, that one's just lame.

"Jordan you okay?" I looked up to see the familiar face of Geno and Gonch.

"Yeah," I say slowly, wait Geno and Gonch are Russian and Sveta's Russian. I should text her in Russian. "Wait, can you guys help me out?"

"Sure," Geno said in his trademark choppy English, "With what?"

"Can you translate something for me,"

"Okay," He seemed apprehensive as he and Gonch shared a look.

"How would I say 'Do you want to come get coffee with me?' in Russian?"

"Вы хотите приехать (Do you want to come)" Gonch started slowly, so I can type it, "Получить ко-" Gonch continued.

"Стороне, в мои штаны," Geno finished with a smirk, "The whole phrase is Вы хотите прийти на вечеринку в моей штаны? So who is this for? New girlfriend?"

"The girl I went out with last night, and she's just a friend. She came just arrived in America yesterday, so I want to make her feel welcome." I respond quickly, defensively. I think responded almost too quickly, making them both look at me with suspicion in their eyes.

"Whatever you say Gronk, we need to go, see you later." Geno said as he and Gonch left the locker room laughing before quickly speaking to each other in Russian.

-

"Hmm, never met a Russian named Geno before," I comment absently, as our coffees are set in front of us, steaming and hot.

"Oh that's their nicknames. Gonch is Sergei Gonchar and Geno is Evgeni Malkin." My eyes widened at the sound of his name. I felt years and years of memories that were stored in the back of my mind rushing to the forefront. Our first conversation, our first date, our first kiss, our first time, all of them came screaming back at me, losing myself in each memory, each emotion.

-

"Okay, Alicia let's see what we have so far," Charlie said as he pressed play on the boom box, filling the air with the trademark sound of Gotan Project. Alicia danced to tango rhythm, taking on the character of the music, sexy yet classy. Showing off her gymnastics training, Alicia used cartwheels and turning leaps with interesting shapes, even doing a chinstand split showing off her back and leg flexibility, to make up for her lack of turning ability.

"Hmm good job Alicia, I like the tango feel to it and the Latin-inspired choreography. I like how you replaced some of your turns with more leaps. After all, that is what you're good at, show 'em your strengths not your weaknesses. Personally, I think you could do without the stag leap, it's a bit superfluous and I think you are explosive enough to do turn jump combination. If you want to keep the stap leap try doing a double pirouette to a stag leap." Charlie said demonstrating the double turn, rebounding into a stag leap, "But overall I think it'll get you a good role in the showcase."

"Thanks!" Alicia beamed as she tried the new combination a few times before running off stage and sitting in one of the theatre chairs waiting for Anna's turn to show her solo to Charlie.

"Okay Anna, let's see what you can do," Charlie said as Alicia flashed a thumbs up to Anna who nodded and took a deep breathe, as she took her starting pose, her legs in a slight lunge and her body bent over her front leg, placing both hands on the ground. She waited for her music to start, the slow, tinkling of the piano started. Moving her arms with such precision in time with every accent, rising from her position delicately, pirouetting and dancing with such an ethereal quality, then the strings came in strong and fast, creating a feeling of chaos as the music picked up in tempo. As the rhythm picked up so did Anna, leaping into the air with such height and extension. Then, the music slowed back to the soft piano and Anna became elegance personified as she rolled out of her jeté back attitude and rose to her ending pose.

"That is just beautiful Anna!" Charlie exclaimed, "Such a wonderful combination of turns and leaps. But, the music is so expressive and emotional that you must be able to express that in your face. Full range of motion, is not just in the body but in the face, as well. If you feel it will just flow, it shouldn't look or feel forced."

Anna nodded and letting the criticism sink in, as she and Alicia walked out of the theatre to make the bus.

"You did great out there, Anna, you're bound to get one of those solos." Alicia said as they waited for the bus to pull in.

Anna just stared blankly, obviously disappointed with the critique. "Yeah, thanks, so did you."

As the bus pulled in and they took their seats towards the back of the bus, "So what do you think of Svetlana?" Alicia asked, "She seems nice."

Anna's eyes narrowed at the sound of her name, "Ugh, what is there not hate about Ms. I was handpicked, Ms. Perfect turnout, Ms. Beautiful work? Who does she think she is! Coming in here all big and tall, making everyone fall in love with her. I've been here since I was 6 and I paid my dues, so what gives her the right to have everyone fawning over her. She's been here two days and she's already had dinner with Jordan Staal and she gets one of the few straight guys as her partner. Ugh, did you see the way Charlie and Madame Stiefel were all over her during class. "Oh, I can't wait to work with you!" "What a lovely turnout!" I wanted to slap that stupid grin off her face today. Everyone thinks she so perfect just because she comes from a family of famous ballet dancers. Who cares? Ugh, you know what I can't even talk about it right now," Anna practically yelled, fuming.

"She's okay," Alicia whispered to herself, shocked at Anna's outburst. Sure Anna had a temper but she had never seen her go off on someone like this before, not even when Mr. Orr had talked to her about how she wasn't the right body type for dance. The rest of the ride was silent, save for Anna's cursing under her breathe. Alicia couldn't wait to get back home and just relax. She was still elated with the possibility of getting a good role in the showcase.

Anna, on the other hand was angry, about Svetlana and frustrated with Charlie's critique. She had heard it so many times before, "Relax your face! Aren't you enjoying what you're doing?" she just was so focused on dancing and the steps, she always forgot about her expression. Besides, if they watched her amazing footwork and technique then they wouldn't need to look at her face, Anna rationalized.

"Svetlana we're home!" Alicia yelled into the empty apartment, as they walked in. She noticed the note on the coffee table. She read it aloud: "Gone out for coffee, be back soon -Svetlana. Hmm, she went out. Does she even know where coffee is?"

"Who cares?" Anna yelled from the bathroom, over the sound of the shower.

"I do and you should to," Alicia grumbled while she went to her room, flopping onto her bed.

After showering, Anna stared at herself in the foggy bathroom mirror. She could see the dark circles under her eyes, the gauntness of her face, she looked at her body, Leah and Georgia have always deemed her lucky for having curves. If only they knew. Anna could still hear Mr. Orr's words, "You're a lovely girl but you just don't have the right body type," "You need to work harder," "Don't you take pride in your work and body?" She had started purging a couples weeks ago and she was already seeing results her ribs jutted out of her body and her hip bones sharply stuck out unnaturally. Anna knew it was dangerous, she knew it was unhealthy but she was doing what she had to succeed. She was going to succeed even if it killed her.

-

"Sveta? Sveta are you there?" Jordan asked waving his hand in front of my face, jolting me out of my reverie.

"Sorry, kind of got distracted there." I say looking down at the coffee, blushing. That was when I noticed the song playing on the radio, "_I can see you clearly/ vividly emblazoned in my mind/ And yet you're so far/ Like a distant star/ I'm wishing on tonight/ I'd give my all to have/ Just one more night with you_," The poignancy of the song washing over me, as I take in the beauty of the lyrics and the music. "What song is this?" I ask abruptly.

"Huh?"

"The song, what is it called?"

"Sounds like Mariah Carey, I think it's called My All. Why you like it?"

"Yeah, it sounds nice," I pause taking in Latin chords and the Latin percussions and guitar, the then an R&B beat kicks in, then it hits me, this is it, this is my song for my solo. "I think I want to use it for my solo," I say slowly imagining the choreography.

"You want to use Mariah Carey for your audition piece?" Jordan asked with a laugh.

"Yes, do you have a problem with that?" I say with mock offense.

"No, its just I thought you would use Mozart or something," Jordan said with a chuckle.

"Just because I'm a ballerina doesn't mean I can't use something contemporary," I point out.

"Well, to be fair this song is over 10 years old," Jordan noted with a cheeky grin which quickly left his face when I gave him a sharp look. "So how was your first day?" Jordan said changing the subject.

"Okay, met a lot of new people and my teachers seem nice," I say furrowing my brow.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're hiding something?"

"It's just that I can't seem to escape my family's legacy. The director, Mr. Orr, danced with Mama when she was a "Guest artist" with ABT and my ballet teacher, Madame Stiefel, danced with my mother when Madame Stiefel was at the Bolshoi. It's just I can't help but feel that they only chose me because of who my parents are and not because of my talent or work ethic."

Jordan's eyes softened, "I'm sure it's not like that. They must've seen something in you, beyond your last name. They can't just choose someone who isn't talented because of their family," He said comforting me.

"Yeah, I guess," I say as I slowly drink the last of my coffee, savoring the taste.

"It's good right?" Jordan said smugly.

"Yeah, you weren't kidding when you said this is the best coffee in Pittsburgh,"

"This is my favorite place to go for coffee," Jordan agreed as we began to head out and walk back to the apartment. "We should make this a regular thing," Jordan mused.

"What? Going out for coffee?"

"Yeah, we should go out for coffee every Monday after your rehearsals and after my practice." Jordan offered with a smile.

"Sure, that'll be great. We can talk about our week and just hang out. It'll be so cool, it can be our thing," I say beaming. "You know, I can't explain it but being with you makes this strange city feel like home," I say more seriously, as we continued to walk to my apartment.

"Aww, I don't know what to say, I didn't know I meant that much to you." Jordan joked, but he became more serious, "But, I know what you mean, when I came here, I didn't know anybody. But, my teammates made this place feel like home, if I can be that for you, than I'm really flattered. Well, I guess this is it, till next Monday?" Jordan said as we reached my apartment.

"We don't have to wait that long, I'm off Sunday and Saturday is a half-day for me," I say with a smile.

Jordan chuckled, "Well, till the weekend then? See ya, Sveta, I had a good time." Jordan said.

"Me too, bye Jordan," I bid before giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I waved goodbye as he drove off and I rushed inside of the apartment building.

"Be careful, Svetlana," I heard Robinson say as I entered the building, "He's a heartbreaker."

I nodded, "Don't worry, we're just friends."

"That's good news for Alex, I guess,"

"What? Alex and I? No, we're just friends too. I just met Alex today."

"You met Jordan yesterday," Robinson said dryly.

"So? We're just friends, we can't hangout together? Besides, Alex was just being nice by taking me back to the apartment. We have to be close; Alex is my pas de deux partner."

"Whatever you say," Robinson said as he scribbled something down on a notebook. My eyes narrowed and I started to walk back to the apartment.

"Guys, I'm home!" I yell.

"Yeah, don't have to scream it," I heard Anna mumble as she walked from the bathroom to her room. I walked in to my room to listen to the song.

I laid on my bed, Mariah Carey playing over and over again, "_I am thinking of you/ In my sleepless solitude tonight/ If it's wrong to love you/ Then my heart just won't let me be right/ 'Cause I've drowned in you/ And I won't pull through/ Without you by my side/ I'd give my all to have/ Just one more night with you/ I'd risk my life to feel/ Your body next to mine/ 'Cause I can't go on/ Living in the memory of your song/ I'd give my all for your love tonight/ Baby can you feel me/ Imagining I'm looking in your eyes/ I can see you clearly/ Vividly emblazoned in my mind/ And yet you're so far/ Like a distant star/ I'm wishing on tonight/ I'd give my all to have/ Just one more night with you/ I'd risk my life to feel/ Your body next to mine/ 'Cause I can't go on/ Living in the memory of your song/ I'd give my all for your love tonight/ Give my all for your love/ Tonight._"

The song reminded me so much of Evgeni and I's relationship, and where we are now. He was so close, yet he was so far away. I've given up everything I had in Russia for just a chance with him. I'd given my all for his love.


	7. Why?

The next chapter will be up soon, I promise. My New Year's resolution is to post something at least every two weeks. I do have this story on Mibba and Quizilla, as well, and they are farther along but not finished. I will be trying to post the rest of the chapters on here so you guys will be caught up. I experimented a bit with figurative language in this chapter, so tell me what you think. Reviews are just lovely! Thanks for those who have reviewed and thanks in advance for those who will. H

Why

The sky was a dark blue and with the round, full moon being obscured by the dark clouds, I was sitting on soft, green grass that surrounded a lake, I instantly recognized the place. It was the place where Evgeni and I would meet. "What are you doing here?" a smooth, deep voice behind me asked in Russian. The voice was one I knew all so well, it was Evgeni.

I turned around and got up as quickly as I could. He looked different, older, wiser, and he was taller than I remember. "What are you doing here?" he asked again, there was an unfamiliar coldness in his voice as he asked this question again.

"I'm here for you," I say earnestly.

"What are you doing here?" His sweet voice now laced with annoyance.

"To see you,"

"What are you doing here?" an irate expression played on his beautiful face.

"I still love you," I cried, my voice straining, my throat tight, it felt as though I couldn't even get the words out.

"What are you doing here?" This time, he bellowed.

"She's with me," A voice behind me calmly spoke in English. I whipped around to see Jordan standing there with a smug smile on his lips. I couldn't help but notice how I was positioned. I was facing Jordan now, overlooking the moonlit lake, and my back was to Evgeni.

"What are you doing here!" Evgeni yelled again, I turned around to respond but before I could face him, Jordan grabbed my wrist.

When I turned back to Jordan, a smirk was tugging at his lips and he shook his head from side to side, no. I looked at him with pleading eyes, I tried to form the words but no sound was coming out. I tried to shake my wrist free from his iron grip, but I couldn't he just shook his head. I looked to Evgeni pleading for help.

"Why did you come here?" was all he asked, his features softened, his voice was now gentle and kind. "Why?" he asked again, "Why?" "Why?" he kept repeating the question over and over again and I tried to respond but the words kept getting lost, I felt as though I was spiraling out of control and the only thing keeping me in control was Jordan's grip on my wrist. It like I was drowning, and before I sank, Evgeni grabbed my other wrist, keeping me up, keeping me alive.

"Why?" he asked again but this time with sadness in his voice.

I jolted awake in a cold sweat, "Why?" The question resonated within the corners of my mind. I was still focusing on the dream trying to remember every moment of it, the dream seemed more like a nightmare the more I though about it.

The handle on the door yanked down roughly and opened, "Svetlana, we're going to dinner, do you want to come?" Anna asked looking like inviting me to dinner was the last thing she wanted to do.

"Sure, I'll just get my jacket and we can go," I say nodding.

Anna wrinkled her nose and furrowed her brow, "What kind of music is that?" I looked at her perplexed for a moment before realizing that Mariah Carey was still playing.

"Oh, it's Mariah Carey. I'm going to use it for me solo,"

"Hmph, it's really cheesy but if that's your style," Anna snickered before closing- no slamming, the door leaving me to the darkness, save for the moonlight pouring in from the window. I grabbed my jacket from the closet and I turned off my laptop, cutting Mariah off right when she began belting the chorus. I slipped my flats back on and went out of my room and into the bright, light of the living room.

"Morning, sleeping beauty!" Alicia said cheerfully, "Let's go, there's that new sushi place I've been dieing to try." I nodded as we headed out of the apartment. When we were in the elevator the silence turned from normal to slightly uncomfortable as Anna kept looking at me and Alicia nervously. "So, Svetlana, have you found a song for your solo yet?"

Anna had this smirk on her face, "Oh yeah she did," Alicia arched one eyebrow.

"Yeah, it's this Mariah Carey song, My All." I say shyly, suddenly embarrassed by my song choice after Anna's remarks.

"My All! I love that song! _I'd give my all for your love tonight_!" Alicia said excitedly, belting out the song, albeit out of tune. "I can't wait to see it," Alicia added eagerly.

We walked to the sushi restaurant named, Sakura, which was just across the street, with Alicia leading. It looked very modern, with sleek mirrors and sharp angles and lines. The décor was mix of the sleek exterior and traditional Japanese motifs. When we were seated, I looked over the menu carefully. Sushi was something that I have only had once before in Russia. The concept was still foreign to me, but I did not have any problems with the idea.

"What are you going to order?" I ask unsure of what to order.

"Why don't we do this family style? We'll just order a bunch of rolls, so we can try everything." Alicia suggested.

"Yeah, whatever," Anna responded nonchalantly.

"Sounds good to me," I say closing my menu before taking sip of my water. Within minutes the waiter came and we ordered an assortment of sushi from sashimi to a spider roll. Alicia and I tried to make small talk with Anna but she kept giving us one word answers so we gave up. I couldn't help but steal glances at her and she looked worried again, like she didn't want to be here.

The lack of small talk was good because it left me to my own devices. I tried to figure out my dream- no nightmare. Evgeni's voice kept echoing in my head, "Why?" like he didn't want me here, like he didn't want to see me. Jordan's smirk, when he gripped my arm, it made shivers run up and down my back. I wasn't sure if it was good or bad and it kind of scared me. All of it felt so real, if I closed my eyes I could still visualize it: the lake dark and the moon round and full. The smell of lake water pungent, Jordan's iron grip on my wrist, Evgeni's sad, brown eyes. It was all so fresh in my mind that it seemed to be engraved in to my memory. It was eerily real.

"Yay!" I heard Alicia yelp as the waiter placed the sushi we ordered on the table, jolting me out of my thoughts. I shook my head, as if trying to shake the vivid nightmare out of my head. I turned my sights to the sushi, taking a slice of each roll and a little bit of sashimi. "I love sushi, its soo good and it's good for you too!" Alicia chimed as she took a bite of her rainbow roll.

I looked at Anna, who had taken some sashimi and a slice of a caterpillar roll. I also noticed the large amounts of Sprite she was drinking, almost four cans and dinner hasn't even started yet. As we dinner progressed, Alicia and I chatted, considering how Anna was unusually quiet, and I couldn't help but steal glances at Anna, who was taking tiny bites of her sashimi and sushi, taking a tiny bite-barely a nibble- and then washing it down with a long drink of Sprite. By the meal's end, she had only eaten what she had put on her plate in the first place and she had drunk nearly ten cans of Sprite. Before we left the restaurant, Anna excused herself to go to the restroom leaving Alicia and me to pay the bill. Alicia and I were happy to split the check, considering how delicious the sushi was.

"Let's go," Anna said flatly as she swallowed some breathe mints, walking past us briskly.

Alicia and I exchanged looks at her domineering tone but what could we do but follow her out of the restaurant and back to our apartment. The walk was quiet and brisk, as Anna was leading and dictating the pace. Her leading seemed to have a tone of seriousness that we had to obey. I- we were glad when we finally got into our apartment, being both exhausted from the day and Anna's overbearing demeanor that seemed to weigh us down.

To be honest the next couple weeks moved so fast it was like a blur. If you asked me how the last month was, I wouldn't be able to tell you, it all seemed to blur into one giant day. My days followed a schedule, wake up at 9:00 am, get to the theatre by 10:00 am, stretch out for morning class by 10:25 am, class starts at 10:30 am, class ends by 12:00 pm, eat lunch usually with Alicia and Anna at the cafeteria at 12:10 pm, go to pas de deux class at 12:50 pm, pas de deux class starts at 1:00 pm, pas de deux class ends at 3:00 pm, and work on my solo with the instructors till 4:00 pm or 5:00 pm, except on Mondays when I go out with Jordan. On Saturdays, it was basically the same, except I didn't have pas de deux class but I still worked on my solo. Sadly, on my first weekend I was not able to go out with Jordan like I had hoped because I had to help Alicia on one of her jobs, where she does makeup and hair, and Jordan had a team meeting since the beginning of the season was coming up.

Before I knew it, it was the end of the month and auditions were coming up on Friday. The auditions were held on one day, where they call the dancers up one by one to perform their solo and if they have any issues to discuss they discuss it after your solo. They post castings on Monday, so we have a month and a half to perfect on our numbers. There will be only two solo roles available, a couple of pas de deuxs and three big group numbers. Besides the dancers already with the Company, the dancers graduating from the Academy will also be auditioning for parts. The tension in the apartment was at a boiling point, even Alicia was focused and concentrating on her solo, we hardly talked to each other except when necessary. We were all so focused it was frightening.

When Monday came around I was happy to get out of the apartment and all the stress and tension that building in our tiny flat. I patiently waited outside as I saw the familiar black car pull up along the curb and Jordan stroll out, "Waiting for someone, miss?"

"Oh, yes, in fact I am," I say playing along.

"May I ask who?" Jordan asked with a sparkle in his eyes.

"Just a guy," I reply nonchalantly.

"He must be a handsome guy with great blue eyes and a killer smile, am I right?"

"Oh no, I'm waiting for a sweaty, big hockey player who has an ego too big for his own good," I reply with a smirk.

"Hey! I am not sweaty!" Jordan exclaims pouting, sounding and looking like a child, "And my ego is not too big!"

I give him an incredulous look, "No, Jordan you are not sweaty and your ego is not too big," I manage to say without laughing.

"That's right! Now let's go get some coffee," Jordan says triumphantly as we started walking to our destination. It has become a sort of tradition for Jordan to talk about his week as we walk to the Nicholas's, I talk about mine when we sit down and on our walk back we talk about we plan to happen in the next week. So as we walked, Jordan talked about how practices are getting more intense as the season is drawing nearer and told me a couple of stories about a few pranks his teammates pulled. Eventually, we got to Nicholas's and we sat down in "our" table, the table in the back that we sat in when we first came here together. "So tell me about your week,"

"Well, same old same old. Eat, sleep, dance, and work on my solo."

"There's something more, you're hiding something from me," Jordan states plain as day as he reads my expression. The waitress then comes to serve us our coffee giving a Jordan a flirtatious smile and giggle as she tugs on the hem of her shirt, lowering the neckline obviously trying to show off her cleavage.

I feel a flash of anger, like I want to punch the little, red-headed waitress on the nose, I wrinkle my nose before responding, "It's just life at the apartment is getting really frustrating. With auditions coming up, everything's just really tense. It's like I need to open a window just so I can breathe."

"Hmm, sounds like us when the playoffs roll around," Jordan says thinking, "Just wait till the auditions end, everything will ease up,"

"I hope so," I say shuddering at the thought of our apartment staying in a perpetual state of tension.

"It will," Jordan says reassuringly, as we drink our coffees.

I can't help but think of the waitress, her name tag read "Jane." The more I thought about it the more I wanted to hit her, the more I wanted to pull her hair, but I couldn't figure out why. Why did I feel so much anger towards this "Jane?" Why did I feel so much resentment? Why did I feel so much disdain? No it wasn't disdain or hate or resentment, it was jealousy. Why did I feel so much jealousy? Jordan's just a guy, besides I have Evgeni. Or will have Evgeni. When I meet him again we'll pick up right where we left off when I left for Moscow and he left for Pittsburgh. There is no point in feeling so jealous, I reassured myself as I drank the last of my coffee slowly, savoring the taste. I let the coffee linger on my tongue, never wanting to leave this place that felt more like home than the apartment that I am living in.

"Penny for your thoughts," Jordan said as he drank the last of his coffee.

I suddenly felt my cheeks warm to a shade of pink, thinking of the flash of jealousy that Jane had elicited, "Oh, just thinking of the audition,"

"Let's talk about it, outside," Jordan said as we stood up and headed out the door.

I let out a weary sigh as we walked towards the apartment, "Okay, it's just there are so many dancers in the Company and there are all the new graduating dancers from the Academy and there are only about 40 roles in the Showcase, some of them really small and there are only two solos given out and if you want a good role in The Nutcracker then you need to good in the Showcase. It's just everything is riding on a 3 minute audition this Friday."

Jordan just looked at me stunned at my long rant. I think I was a little stunned to, sure I was nervous but nerves were natural. I never knew how anxious I was for this audition till I voiced it now, "Relax, Sveta, just relax. You're starting to sound like Sid before a big game. You were born to do this, you'll do fantastic, you'll get a great role in the Showcase and even greater role in The Nutcracker." Jordan said, rubbing the back of my neck in reassurance.

I nodded weakly as we continued to walk, "My audition is on Friday, so I have the whole weekend off," I add.

"Cool, maybe you can finally meet my teammates," Jordan said excitedly, beaming at thought of me meeting his friends.

"Yeah, that would be fantastic!" I reply trying to contain my enthusiasm, I was glowing at the thought of seeing Evgeni again.

Jordan chuckled at my enthusiasm, "Okay then, see you this Saturday, when should I pick you up?"

"Well, where will we be meeting them?"

"I was thinking we go out for dinner first and then we can go meet them," Jordan answered as we reached the front of my apartment.

"So I guess you can come pick me up around dinner time, like 6:30?"

Jordan thought for a moment before answering, "Okay then, Saturday at 6:30, it's a date," he said before quickly adding, "A friend date,"

I nodded as I gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek before saying our goodbyes. I don't know how long I stood there smiling foolishly on the sidewalk before walking in. When I walked in I greeted Robinson, who has stopped making comments about me going out, but he has been writing in a notebook whenever I come in and out, just like he was doing now.

But I didn't care, I was walking on air, I was elated with the thought of just seeing Evgeni again, which is probably why I didn't care when I entered the apartment. The apartment's atmosphere was more than tense, music was playing from both Alicia's and Anna's room. The music was so wildly different from each other, combined it was dissonant and cacophonous but more often the combination of the two songs was harmonious, consonant. The music was accented by the light sound of pointe shoes softly skimming the floor and the sound of Anna and Alicia counting off softly.

"1, 2, 3, 4," I hear Alicia say to herself, in time with the music.

"5, 6, 7, 8," Anna finishes as she counts to herself, in perfect beat with her music. I found myself struck by how in sync the two were, how close they were in their relationship. I was mesmerized as I walked as quietly as I could to my room, as if my mere presence would ruin the mood. Perhaps it already has, I thought solemnly to myself as I slid into my room, silently.

Resting on my bed, I didn't visualize my routine, as much as I was going through the emotions of the dance. I wasn't thinking of my double pirouette into a double attitude turn but I was thinking of the wanting and the longing that the song evoked. I wasn't thinking of my grand jeté nor was I thinking about my battements, I was thinking of the heartbrokenness that the singer was feeling. If I could feel this dance as much as I could, then the judges could feel it too.


	8. Technique and Power

Thank you guys for all the reviews and all those who added this to your alert list! I truly appreciate it. Here it is, the next chapter! Don't be afraid to review!

The next couple of days raced by me, as my days fell back into their similar pattern. Before I knew it, it was Friday morning and I was on the bus, with Alicia and Anna, going to the Theatre. We must have been quite a sight on that bus. Three young girls in elaborate costumes and stage makeup, exaggerating our features. At least none of us were wearing tutus. Costumes, hair and makeup were not required but it was recommended. I was wearing a white leotard with a sweetheart neckline and a sheer pink skirt around my waist. My hair and makeup were natural, my hair pulled softly into a bun and I wore as little stage makeup as I could get away with. Alicia was wearing a red, one shouldered dress that cascaded into a ruffled skirt. Her hair was slicked back into a bun, her hair parted sharply on the side, the bun decorated with a gold filigree comb, adding to the Spanish influence. Her eyes rimmed with dark eyeliner, and her lips stained red, she embodied the feeling of a tango dancer with her red and black lace fan as a prop. Anna was wearing a dramatic dress of layered blues, with a diaphanous light blue layer over a satiny navy blue with sparkles that reminded me of the night skies. Her hair was pulled into a French twist with pearl tipped pins that sparkled in the light. Her makeup consisting of smoky navy blue eye shadow that intensified made her baby blue eyes. She looked the most dramatic of us all. The ride was quiet, with Anna and Alicia listening to their iPods and me staring out the window, we were anxious for the bus to reach the Theatre.

After what seemed like years, the bus finally jerked to a stop in front of the grand front of the Theatre. The Theatre seemed more opulent than ever as we walked in, through the front as opposed to the side door we usually used. This was the first time I walked through the lobby, the floor was marble with lush red carpet covering it. On the walls hung posters of past productions ranging from the _Nutcracker_ to some more contemporary ballets like _The Great Gatsby_. We checked-in, before walking into the Theatre itself, the plush red velvet stadium seats seemed to go on forever before we finally reached the stage. While it lacked the pure opulence and grandeur and the long history of the Bolshoi Theatre back home, it had the kind of modern atmosphere where you could feel great things would be happening, where stars were being born, and where careers where being launched. In front of the large, open stage, sat the judges in the center section about 10 rows up. The judges were composed of Mr. Orr, Madame Stiefel, Charlie, and two other people I did not recognize. On the stage, dancers were either stretching or chatting casually. I would later find out that not only was the Pittsburgh Ballet School professional-level students there, along with Company members, but so were independent dancers and other dancers hoping to start their careers. I immediately recognized Georgia, Martha and Leah stretching out decked in their costumes and makeup. Naturally, we joined them. We started stretching and chatting about everything, except the audition.

"Everyone, can I have your attention." Mr. Orr's voice boomed as he clapped his hands together gathering everyone's attention, "Yes, now as you all know today is our audition for our Fall Showcase. I cannot stress enough how important the Fall Showcase is. The Showcase sets the tone for the entire season and showcases our new talent as well as our veterans. We will be starting with Leah Chang, everyone else please leave the stage."

I saw Alicia give Leah a thumbs up before we had to leave the stage and take our places in one of the many seats. Some of us watched her performance. Others chose not to and simply listened to their iPods, tuning everything out. I watched as Leah sashayed across the stage, dancing to the familiar sound of Debussy's _Claire de Lune_. She was ethereal but she seemed to lack a confidence and poise that made her seem more nervous than she was. As Leah took her ending pose, we applauded her as she stood in fifth waiting for the judges to dismiss her off the stage. The judges waved casually as they scribbled in a note pad, dismissing Leah. Leah rushed off the stage as she took a seat next to Alicia.

"Alejandro Diaz, you're up," I heard one of the judges drone, as Alejandro jogged up to the stage. Disappearing behind the curtain for a moment, he came out carrying a table. He set the table down on the center of the stage and disappeared behind the curtain again. The soft sound of the piano started the first few notes playing before Alejandro reappeared walking towards the table holding a framed picture. The emotion of the song was radiating off of him as he walked, falling to his knees while doing a single chaîné into a roll crawling his knees to the table before finally setting the photograph on the table. You could feel his tortured soul, his broken heart. He uses the photograph as a prop, at first treating with gentleness, setting down on the table with care, dancing and doing turns while holding the frame to the sky. Then, he takes the photograph and throws it across the stage with a passion, with anger. He pounds his fists on the table top in a frustration before he executes a flawless leap combination to reach the photograph. He does an incredible pirouette à la seconde combination into a cabriole, before longingly walking to the photograph. When he reaches the photograph he is on his knees, he clutches the frame with such vulnerability. He crawls to the table setting the photograph on the table, face down, before using the table as a support to get up. He walks away from the table as the song ends. The vulnerability, the raw emotions of the solo made tears well up in my eyes. There was a pause before we started clapping, the applause grew louder and some of the judges even gave him a standing ovation. Alejandro stood there on the stage bowing over and over again, looking almost bashful at such a reaction, a stark contrast to his normally cocky demeanor. Once waved off, Alejandro took the table and the frame and carried it off stage, to the wings, before jogging off the stage.

"Martha Lewis," Mr. Orr said as Alejandro joined is in the audience. Martha took a deep, ragged breathe before heading to the stage. I honestly wasn't that close to Martha and in Anna's words she was just "average," just "plain Jane." Apparently, she has been in the front of the corps for many seasons and has been one of the cygnets in the Dance of Cygnets in _Swan Lake_. As Martha took the stage, clad in a classic tutu that stuck out stiffly from her hips, she posed in a traditional pose, feet in fifth, the right in a tendu, arms crossed at the wrist and held at her chest. She danced to the sound of Mozart. The solo, as much as I hate to say, while technically sound was traditional and average. As the last few notes of the song played, Martha took her ending pose, an arabesque, followed by a polite applause as she ended.

The judges cleared their throats before Mr. Orr commented, "Thank you Martha. That was lovely, but it has come to our knowledge that you have been bringing boys back to your apartment. What do you have to say about that?"

Martha was at a loss for words unsure of what to say before finally responding her voice tight, "Th-that was just my cousin, he was visiting,"

"Hmm, well in this month's report, it is said you have brought about five men back, and the amount in past reports is staggering, are all of them your cousins?"

"O-of course not, it's just- just,"

"Just what my dear? You didn't expect us to be keeping tabs on you?"

"N-no, it's just th-that,"

"That is all, please sit down," One of the other judges said waving Martha off the stage and she did just that with her head hanging low. Apparently that was their way of discouraging such behavior, humiliating you in front of your peers. "Ethan, you're up."

Ethan, one of the new graduates, came to stage with a youthfulness and confidence that was refreshing. His solo while strong, full of turns and jumps, lacked a concept other than showing off his turning ability and the height of his jumps.

I didn't pay attention to the following solos, as we all tried to comfort Martha, who was inconsolable. "Alicia, you're up." Alicia gave Martha a few more encouraging words before going on stage.

Alicia took her beginning pose, her back facing the audience, her right arm extended upwards to the sky and her left arm arched so that the back of her left hand, holding her fan, is touching her right elbow. As the first few notes of the music started, she opened her fan, using it as an extension of herself. The crowd cheered and wolf whistled as she danced her solo, leaving nothing to be doubted about her dancing ability. She gave an entirely different interpretation of what ballet "should be." Her solo had a sexiness, a panache to it that seemed nowhere near Balanchine and Markova. By the end of the routine, she had us, the audience, in the palm of her hand, she drew us in with her eyes and her charisma.

"Thank you, Alicia that was wonderful. Now, we would like to call Svetlana to the stage." I was shocked and nervous all at the same time. They broke their pattern of girl-boy-girl. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies that fluttering nervously in my already queasy stomach, before walking up to the stage.

"Go get 'em girl," Alicia said with a wink and a thumbs up as we crossed paths on the stairs leading to the stage.

I forced a smile as I got into the character of the dance. I assumed my starting pose, on the floor with my legs crossed and slightly bent so that my knees were to my chest with my back hunched over, my arms were folded around my legs and my toes pointed and extended so that they just touched the floor. I let myself fall into the emotions, drowning in them as I danced. Letting myself go as I let the movements come naturally to me, letting muscle memory take over as I lost myself in the emotions, focusing on nothing more than feeling the song and the steps as much as possible. Before I knew it, I reach the end of my number, falling to my knees slowly extending into a stag split on the ground, letting my arms fall and my back arch back, releasing my head. Nothing would have prepared me for the roar of the audience as they clapped when the music stopped. I rose from the ground and bowed, blushing at the attention. After a while, one of the judges raised his hand and cleared his throat, silencing the audience.

"Lovely performance Svetlana," Mr. Orr said with a grin, "In this month's report," Mr. Orr continued as he rifled through some papers, "It says that you've been going out with a guy, who I will not name, almost every week,"

I was caught off guard by the question and a little bit annoyed at the prodding into my personal life, "Oh, he is just a friend, who has been showing me around the city. So I can get familiar with Pittsburgh, seeing as I plan on being here for a good while," I was determined to not be shaken like Martha. I shocked myself a little bit, at my sudden courage. A few months ago, I would have been so flustered and red, that I might have been too embarrassed to answer. But now, I was different, I had confidence and strength, where it came from I do not know. All I know is that I don't want it to go away.

"Hmm, if you say so," Mr. Orr said satisfied with my answer, while he waved me off the stage. I rushed to my seat with my legs shaking, from the adrenaline and the questioning.

"Great job," Alicia whispered as I sat down, and another male dancer took the stage. "This is my guy right here. Go Robbie!" She cheered as he took his beginning pose, on his knees, his head on the ground, his arms stretched out. "He's a former gymnast, too." And it showed, he showed off his flexibility with straddle split leaps and incredible balances, his leg touching his ear at times, and he showed off his acrobatic ability with back flips and even a front flip landing on his knees. In a word he was incredible. After the applause ended, the judges called up Anna.

From the moment she took her beginning pose, she was amazing. Her feet were so precise, her technique clean, her turns perfect, her leaps soaring but her face was stoic and the quality and emotion behind her movements were wooden. There was a robotic stiffness that I had only noticed when I looked past the technique. As much as I hated to say it, I had to agree with Mr. Orr in that she looked as though she didn't enjoy what she was doing, which I knew was the contrary. As she took her ending pose, we all clapped but we didn't feel compelled to stand or "hoot and holler" as Alicia described it. As she walked off the stage, I noticed she was wobbly, her legs looked painfully thin in the harsh, stage light, and her skin looked sallow. When she finally hobbled down the stairs, she fell. There was a collective gasp that was overshadowed by the music of the other dancer's solo. Her chest was heaving and her arms looked emaciated as she tried to push herself up, but she couldn't. If she was too weak to push herself up or if she just didn't want to, I wasn't sure. She was lucky that judges were too busy judging the next dancer's solo to see her fall. It wasn't long before one of the guys helped her up. Alicia and she talked. You could tell, by their facial expressions, the gravity of their conversation.

"Anna and me are going to go back to the apartment. Is that okay?" Alicia asked as Anna started packing up her dance bag, "She's really tired and I think she needs some bed rest."

I merely nodded, still wondering if I was the only one who noticed her dangerous behavior. I walked them out of the Theatre and when I returned to my seat, Georgia dancing her solo. She looked lovely, her red hair bound in a braid as she danced. She embodied innocence as she danced her interpretation of Chopin. When I took my seat, I noticed that Alejandro had taken the seat next to me.

"You did great out there," he whispered as Georgia finished her solo.

"Thanks, so did you," I add, blushing as another solo was starting. "You're bound to get a solo with a routine like that."

"Thanks but I don't think so."

"What? Why? You were wonderful,"

"It's just that I already had a solo at the Summer Workshop and they don't give two solos out in a row,"

"Oh, well you did do fantastic. So you're practically guaranteed a good role in the Nutcracker,"

"So are you, the emotion of your dance was overwhelmingly good, there wasn't a dry eye in the house,"

"You're exaggerating. But thank you, I really was focusing on the emotions to set my solo apart from the other ones."

"Well, you did just that. Where are Alicia and Anna?"

"Oh, well Anna wasn't feeling well after her solo, so Alicia went with her back to the apartment,"

"Thank God!"

My mouth fell open. I didn't realize that's how he felt towards them. I mean Anna can be a pain sometimes but she means well and Alicia has been nothing but sweet and the perfect roommate, even if this past week has been a bit intense.

"Oh, not like that. It's just Anna is so annoying sometimes, don't you think?" Alejandro clarified.

"She's just having a hard time, we all have our faults that we need work on."

"Oh come on, you are too nice. You aren't bothered in class whenever Charlie or Madame Stiefel say do a single pirouette and she does a double. Charlie's nice enough to let it slide and not say anything about it. But I hear what happens whenever Madame Stiefel asks, 'What was that?' She just responds, 'Oh I thought there was enough music for a double and wouldn't a double be better?' Ugh! She is just showing off because she can't express any emotion."

I was at a loss for words. I wasn't annoyed at Anna for trying to a double when Madame asks for a single. I was in awe of her courage and, as Alicia would say, guts. "I cannot say I'm really bothered about that. But, I do think you are being a bit too harsh on Anna. She works really hard and her technique is near perfect."

"Her technique is good but her face is like stone. Come on admit it, she has no expression whatsoever," Alejandro goaded.

"Okay, so Anna does have trouble in her face, but her technique makes up for it,"

"Technique, technique, technique," Alejandro mocked, "What is it with you and technique? Technique isn't everything you know,"

"Yeah well, try dancing Swan Lake without it,"

"Whatever. All this talk about technique is shocking come from the dancer who performed the most emotional solo of the day,"

"Technique is important in the Russian school, technique is hammered into you when you're a child but so is expression. I guess it's harder for some people to be that expressive," I said softly.

"I guess," Alejandro replied flatly, "Seeing as we have this weekend off, do you wanna go out this Saturday night?"

I was shocked by how forward he was and how casual he was about it. His casual tone and cocky confidence seemed as if he asks out girls all the time. I was at a loss for words, unsure of how to respond. It's not like Alejandro's not handsome but I just didn't see a relationship with him, considering Evgeni. Plus, if we did go out and it ended badly then how could we still be partners? "Uh-umm," I stuttered as I tried thinking of ways to let him down easy. Then Jordan flashed through my mind, _that's right_! We have plans tomorrow night. I'd been so focused on the auditions that he just slipped my mind. "I don't think so, and it's just that I have plans with a friend tomorrow night. Sorry."

"Oh, well maybe some other time then," Alejandro said obviously feeling dejected. Just as Alejandro said that, the last dancer finished her solo. It was one of the independent artists. Her name was perhaps Joan.

Mr. Orr clapped his hands together gathering everyone's attention, "Great job today, dancers. You certainly made all of our jobs much harder. You are all free to leave. Have a great weekend dancers, castings will be up on Monday before lunch."

A sigh of relief escaped my lips as I gathered my dance bag and pulled pair of sweat pants over my leotard and wrapped a light pink cardigan around my torso. I walked out of the Theatre with Alejandro, who I had grown accustomed to riding the bus back to the apartment with. The bus ride back was painfully quiet and awkward and I hated to think it was because I turned him down.

As we walked into the elevator Alejandro suddenly muttered, "Sunday lunch,"

"Wh-what?" I asked as the elevator doors closed and we pressed our respective buttons.

"Sunday lunch, how about we go out for lunch on Sunday?"

I furrowed my brow, I didn't want to lead him on but the awkward silence in the bus was terrible. "Sunday sounds great." I relented but not before adding, "But I will only go out with you as friends, okay? Just imagine if we were to eventually become boyfriend-girlfriend off stage and if it were to end badly, we couldn't be partners anymore."

"You imagine what we would be like as a couple?" Alejandro teased with his signature cocky, borderline arrogant smile. "Sunday at lunch, as friends, sounds perfect to me," he added with a touch of disappointment in his voice, as the elevator reached my floor, "I'll see you there."

"Till Sunday," I responded as I walked out of the elevator, waving goodbye. When I walked into the apartment, I noticed Alicia sitting on the couch watching TV and the water in the bathroom running. "Wh-"

"She's taking a bath. Everything has been so hectic recently that she hasn't been eating well. She just didn't have the strength she needed." Alicia said calmly. I sat down next to her as I absently watched TV with her. "You did good out there," Alicia said encouragingly.

"Thanks. You were amazing out there, too." I said gushing.

"Thanks," Alicia said bashfully, "I hope I get a good part in the Showcase and in _The Nutcracker_,"

"You will. Based on that solo, there is no doubt you'll get a great role in both." I yawned, tired from the day, both emotionally and physically.

"Poor thing," Alicia said taking on the role of Mother Hen, "Go take a nap, you must be exhausted." I nodded as I walked to my room, dragging myself onto my bed. But as hard as I fought, I could not stop sleep from overpowering me. Letting the dreams, or nightmares, of Evgeni, fill the corners of my mind. 

"What do you think of Robert? He had really great extension," Mr. Orr said looking at the résumé before him, consisting of his professional experiences, education, responsibilities, qualities and measurements. He had about fifty of these résumés in three piles in front of him. The judges and he had not been able to narrow down their choices for the prime roles, meaning they had set the corps and the nine soloists for the three group numbers. They still needed to choose who would be in the two pas de deuxs, and the male and female dancer who would have solos.

"Yeah, he has great legs but I think that's all he is. It's kind of tragic if you think about it," Angel Godinz, the former director of the Miami Ballet who is now teaching at the Academy, said being a touch dramatic.

"I know what you mean, the song was about someone believing in you, and there was so much passion in the lyrics. But, he just kind of got up there did a lot of balances and flexibilities." Charlie noted as he placed Robbie's résumé in a growing pile of 'no's for solos.'

"He did have a great toe point and great acrobatics, but he has potential, he isn't the tallest but he dances tall. Still, I'm not sure he's ready for a solo, in the first production of the year," Angel said.

"You think so? But he did look really good in the Academy all year. Plus he could show a lot growth in years to come. Isn't that what the Showcase is about? Showing off our new talent." Mr. Orr noted as he snatched Robbie's résumé from the 'no' pile and placed the résumé in the 'yes' pile. There may have been 4 judges but Mr. Orr had the final say.

"What about Alejandro?"

"He was fantastic. I think I can speak for all of us when I say that he touched all of us with his performance." Cynthia Kent, the retired star of the American Ballet Theatre and teacher at the Academy.

"Exactly, he had such a Baryshnikov quality to him, he was so vulnerable yet so masculine," Madame Stiefel commented. "He would have the solo but I do not think it would be a good idea to give him two solos in a row."

"I see what you mean," Cynthia said, pausing before resuming, "Giving him two solos in a row would enlarge his ego, and we all know how big dancer's egos can get," Her jib got a slight chuckle from the judges, "Besides, what would the audience think if we gave the same dancer two solos. They would think that the Academy is not producing enough quality dancers. But I think he should definitely get a great role in the Nutcracker." Cynthia finished as she placed his résumé in the 'no' pile.

"All the better for me," Charlie said, "I want him for my pas de deux."

"What about Alicia? She's really made leaps and bounds over the summer, no pun intended," Mr. Orr commented.

"Yeah, she had such presence and those leaps looked as though she was shot out of a cannon she was so high," Angel commented, "Definitely solo material," as he placed her résumé in the 'yes' pile.

"The way she interpreted the music through her choreography and costuming was fantastic. Also, she was one of the only ones who used a prop, and it is significantly harder to dance with a prop," Madame Steifel said.

"Her turns are lacking, but she was smart in camouflaging them. I think I know only a handful of male dancers that would even have the guts to try some of the combinations she performed," Mr. Orr agreed.

"My point precisely," Angel said. "What about Anna? Her technique was flawless. I remember seeing her when she was just a little girl with that amazing technique," He said as he looked thoughtfully at her résumé, "She had a great solo, so much content and great music. Her turns were spot on."

"Yeah? Was she as robotic when she was a little girl?" Mr. Orr said sharply.

Angel wrinkled his nose, "Yes," he admitted, "But she did have a pretty fantastic solo. You can't deny that only a handful of girls could do the first half of that routine. Most wouldn't even have the stamina for it, let alone the technique and talent to."

"She has such an amazing presence and she's more than paid her dues," Charlie added.

"But she is so difficult to work with and her attitude is definitely not the best," Madame Stiefel's patience, like Mr. Orr's, was growing thin with Anna. "But she has been working hard, she's even been losing weight and I think it's been great for her line and overall look."

"I don't know if she's solo worthy yet, having no expression or emotion can really break a solo, but she at least deserves a group solo role." Cynthia added as she placed Anna in the 'yes' pile. "Now let's talk about Svetlana. I know you guys have been dieing to talk about her."

"She's pretty amazing, she had such an emotional performance and her technique was amazing. She was like Pavlova mixed with Legnani. She was so Russian in the way she attacked this routine, she pounced on to pointe, she didn't just roll onto it. She was so aggressive and passionate but not in that obvious angry, fierce way. She is definitely a classical Russian." Angel gushed.

"What else would you expect? She's legacy." Cynthia added.

"She has done really well in my class and her turnout is perfect. The emotions in the solo was so vivid and raw," Madame Stiefel commented, "She should definitely get a solo,"

"Unlike someone we know," Mr. Orr hinted, not subtly, "But, I'm not sure I like this Jordan Staal thing."

"What are you her Dad? At least she answered your question with grace and she didn't get flustered," Charlie joked, "I know it sounds selfish but I want her for my pas de deux with Alejandro. They're already partners so the chemistry will already be there and chemistry is what I need for the number I plan on doing," Charlie continued light-heartedly.

"Look all I'm saying is what if Svetlana's only here to hook up with hockey players? She could have gone anywhere but she came here," Mr. Orr defended.

"And all I'm saying is that even if she was, you have no right to tell her not to see Jordan Staal. She's a big girl." Charlie retorted.

"I think I have right to have some vested interest in my dancers. Besides how would it look on the Company if our Russian starlet was a puck bunny?" Mr. Orr snapped back, "She should be reprimanded for this."

"Okay, I get it hockey players are bad. But is that really necessary?" Charlie asked, "You aren't going to punish Martha for practically bringing half the city of Pittsburgh into her apartment, but you're going to punish Svetlana for going out for coffee with maybe her only non-dance friend in Pittsburgh. Clearly this Jordan Staal thing isn't hurting her dancing it might be even helping it."

"Yes, I am," Mr. Orr said flatly, "She will not be eligible for a solo in this Showcase. But you will get her for your pas de deux, if that will keep you from whining," Mr. Orr grumbled darkly. As he placed her résumé in the 'no' pile, no one dared raise an objection. Mr. Orr was exercising his power and right as the Director.


	9. Tits McGee

Thank you for everyone who reviewed and added this to their alerts list! This chapter took longer than I wanted to get out and worse it's kind of a filler. This chapter also features my lame attempt at humor. Please review!

Important: I'm not sure if this was mentioned or not but I'm going to put it in. This story takes place during Pittsburgh's Stanley Cup season, so keep that in mind!

Tits McGee

I was peacefully sleeping when the harsh sound of my phone broke my delicate sleep. I dragged myself to my phone to see that there was one new text message. It read: "Change of plans, I'm coming over now. –Jordan" I groaned, it was 9:32 AM, I was hoping to sleep in, it was my day-off after all. I didn't even bother to reply to his text. Instead, I dragged myself off the bed and took a hot-cold-hot shower to wake me up. I tugged on a pair of dark, slim cut jeans, slipped on a white, ribbed tank top, and wrapped a black cardigan around me. As I was slipping on my black, leather ballerina flats, my phone started buzzing, yet again, with the notification that I had one new text. "Outside, waiting – Jordan," It read. I quickly wrote a note for Alicia and Anna, stating that I was going out and I wasn't sure when I would be back.

I was waiting for the elevator, when there was a soft ding, announcing the elevator's arrival, the doors opened revealing Alejandro. He was leaning against the wall of the elevator, his arms crossed against his chest, a pair of dark sunglasses concealing his eyes. I dreaded having to go into the elevator, I was dreading the awkward conversation, or worse the awkward silence, but there was no way out of it. If I chose to wait for the next elevator, then it'll seem like I'm avoiding him and I'm already having lunch with him tomorrow. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for what was coming up next, before entering the elevator.

"So, where you going?" Alejandro asked.

"I'm going out with a friend, remember?" I respond, hoping to keep the conversation going.

"Oh, yeah."

"So how about you? Going out for breakfast?"

"Nah, going out for a smoke," Alejandro said shaking a carton of cigarettes in my face, the cigarettes inside made a soft, scraping noise against the carton, "You want one?"

"Oh, no, I don't smoke, but thank you for offering," I reply, inwardly grimacing at the dirty habit.

"Alright," Alejandro said shrugging his shoulders, "We still on for Sunday lunch?"

"Yeah, of course, why not?"

"Nothing just wondering, thought maybe you had other plans with friends," Alejandro said flatly, to be honest the words stung. He was acting like the jealous boyfriend, which he obviously isn't.

"Oh, that is not the case, I'm free for tomorrow." I say as I can feel the thick silence enveloping us, only the dinging of the elevator pierced the silence. Finally, the doors opened and I walked out of the elevator as fast as I could without seeming eager. I let out a sigh of relief and couldn't help but smile when I saw Jordan leaning against the door of his car, dressed casually in beige, madras shorts and a red shirt that looks like it's been worn several times with dark sunglasses obscuring his blue eyes from my vision.

"Finally, took you long enough to get out here," Jordan teased.

"Well, I think I got out here pretty fast considering your text woke me up," I defend, my words coming out sharper than I intended.

"Okay, sorry for making sure you had fun today," Jordan said sarcastically as he walked over to me and slung his arm around my shoulders, as we walked towards his car, he continued, "Now we've got a full day ahead of us, I gotta introduce you to a lot of guys today, but we'll have breakfast first."

I merely nodded, "That's great," I say as he opens the door of his car for me, with a great flourish. I couldn't help but giggle at his chivalry as I slid into the passenger seat.

"You're gonna love this place, they have the best French toast in the world," Jordan says as we start to drive.

"Sounds fantastic, so how has training been?"

"Hard, but hey, if it was easy they'd call it dancing," Jordan said teasingly.

"Hey!" I say as I shove his arm, causing him to swerve.

"Ahh! Don't abuse the driver!" Jordan exclaimed as he managed to get back on his side of the road.

"Yeah, well ballet is hard! You try dancing en pointe from 10:30 to 4:00, while finding time for Pilates, yoga, cardio, and some how eat a balanced diet. "

"Okay, okay, dancing is hard," Jordan said as he rubbed his arm.

"As hard as hockey," I added, Jordan shot me a look of disbelief. I swiftly punched him in the arm, again, causing him to swerve, again.

"Alright, geez, dancing is as hard as hockey. Can you stop hitting me now?" Jordan acquiesced as he rubbed his arm, "Did you have to get the same spot? I'm playing this Friday!"

I couldn't help but giggle at how he was acting. He may have been one of the physically biggest guys I've ever met and there are times where he acts like a kid.

"We're here!" Jordan chimed as he cut the engine and we climbed out of the car. The diner was decorated in the '50's style, red and white booths and tables, and waitresses in rollerblades. We seated ourselves, in a booth in the back, and a waitress promptly took our order, we both ordered French toast but I ordered mine with orange juice while Jordan ordered his with chocolate milk, which I had to bite my lip to prevent me from giggling.

"What? A grown man can't have chocolate milk with his breakfast?" Jordan asked innocently.

"Oh please, since when were you a grown man?" I teased before we both burst out laughing. I don't know what it was about Jordan but when I was with him, it was like nothing else mattered. It didn't matter that I just had a potentially life-altering audition yesterday, it didn't matter that my pas de deux partner had a crush on me, it didn't matter that the man I came to Pittsburgh for I haven't even so much as seen. I felt like a kid again, like there wasn't a care in the world, like the only thing that mattered was the present. Yet at the same time, I could be entirely serious with Jordan, I could tell him anything from how my day went to how I was worried about Babushka's health. But as close as I was with Jordan, I couldn't bring myself to tell Jordan about Evgeni. After all, I have only known Jordan for a month and Evgeni was someone so close and personal. Mama and Papa don't even know about Evgeni and me. Not that they would ever approve of us. It sounds selfish but he was mine, and I didn't want anyone to take him away from me. And today, today I was closer than ever to having him again, just me and him. Like it used to be.

"Here you go kids," Sherry, our waitress decked out in a red-striped uniform, a teased up-do and cherry red lips, said as she placed our plates of French toast in front of us, pulling me from my thoughts. "Eat up, just holler if you need anything."

I eagerly took my first bite of the warm, cinnamon-ey, French toast that was drenched in maple syrup. It was wonderful, and I couldn't help but smile, not only because of the French toast but of how the day was turning out.

"It's that good I know," Jordan says before he takes a long drink of his chocolate milk out of brightly colored green straw. "So how did the audition go?"

"Great, I think it went really well," I say slowly as I think about my audition.

"Told you it would," Jordan stated matter of fact-ly.

"Yeah, I guess you were right, I just needed to relax,"

"And things at the apartment? Have they eased up like I've predicted?"

I furrowed my brow, "I'm not sure. I mean yesterday, Anna fell as she was coming off stage because she was so weak. Everyone thinks that she was so weak because everything has been so hectic, which it has, and that she just didn't have the time to eat. But I hate to think I'm the only one who notices her strange eating behavior."

"Anna was the pushy waitress, right?" Jordan says with his mouth full of French toast.

"Yeah…" I say trailing off.

"Well, I think that you should observe Anna for a little longer, and then see if it really is because of stress from the auditions and the start of performing season. Or if it really is an eating disorder," Jordan says punctuating his words with his fork before taking the last couple bites of his French toast. "I'm going to go to the bathroom, okay?" Jordan said as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

I nodded again, as he walked away, leaving me to my own devices. I continued to eat my French toast, as I let my mind wander. I couldn't help but think about how close I was to seeing Evgeni. He would see me and his eyes would widen in both surprise and shock and then he would scoop me up into his arms and hold me tight like we were never separated. I smiled at the warmth that spread from my middle and radiated, everything would be just like it used to be. "_You made me love you, I didn't want to do it, I didn't want to do it. You made me love you and all the time you knew it I guess you always knew it_." The singer on the jukebox sang, she had a voice that was indicative of Old Hollywood. I found myself so completely and utterly focused on the soft melody and the singer's breathy voice. Suddenly, I see Jordan strolling to the table, hastily shoving a receipt in his pocket as he was whistling the song.

"I knew it! You paid for breakfast, didn't you?" I exclaimed as I caught him red handed, "We agreed to split this one."

"Hey, I was just being a gentleman, most girls like that," Jordan defended, "I don't see what you're getting all worked up about, most people be happy that they got a free breakfast," he grumbled.

"It's not that, I just don't want to feel like I owe you anything more. I mean I owe you so much already, showing me around, letting me vent to you,"

"Don't sweat it Sveta, it's what friends are for." Jordan resolved, "Now let's go, we got a lot of people who have been dieing to meet you. Can't keep 'em waiting,"

"Okay, okay," I grumbled, "I don't know how you do it, but I can never stay mad at you for long,"

"It's all part of my charm, babe, now let's go," Jordan replied as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and we walked out of the restaurant and into his car.

The car radio hummed softly as we drove to "Flower's place." I was nervous. Questions were racing through my mind: What if I embarrass myself? What if Jordan's friends don't like me? Who the heck is Flower?

"Penny for your thoughts?" Jordan asked, taking his eyes off the road to give me a nervous look.

"Ugh," I groaned as I ran my hands through me hair, "What if they don't like me? What if I embarrass myself? Who is this Flower guy?"

"These are all 'What if's' you'll be fine, they'll love you. Flower's the nickname we have for our goalie, his real name is Marc-Andre Fleury. So you can see where we got the nickname,"

"Oh, I see," I say softly, quickly making the connection. I don't know why but the only time I could compare how I felt now was when Evgeni took me to meet his parents. I was anxious and nervous, I wanted nothing more then to just turn around and go back home. I suddenly felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, what if Evgeni didn't remember me? The doubt clouded my thoughts, as I slipped back into a silence. Nonsense, don't be foolish, I told myself, no one can forget true love, I tried to reason.

"We're here," Jordan said softly, as if not wanting to destroy the fragile silence, while parking his car along the curb. The home was huge, it was larger than nearly all the houses in Magnitogorsk, and our house was quite large, as well. We were the lucky ones.

As we walked to the front door, I noticed that the driveway was filled with cars, all rather expensive looking. "Don't be nervous, they're just people," Jordan said encouragingly, as he knocked on the door.

I merely nodded, taking a deep breath, as I saw the ornate door knob twist and turn.

"Hey, Jordan! Took you long enough, you missed breakfast," An energetic man, shorter than Jordan but taller than me, spoke with a French accent.

"Sorry, I didn't want to get food poisoning," Jordan teased as draped an arm around my shoulder.

"I'd like you to know that Vero thinks my cooking is fantastic,"

"Well, that's someone you should hang onto," Jordan replied as we made our way into the spacious foyer, "By the way, this is Svetlana," he added gesturing to me.

"Ah, you're the ballerina that Jordan's been talking about,"

"I hope he hasn't been saying anything bad about me," I reply, blushing at the thought of Jordan mentioning me to his friends.

"What? Me? Say anything bad? Nonsense," Jordan joked, feigning offense. As we walked into the living room, we were greeted by a chorus of yelling and shouting. Jordan removed his arm from around my shoulders to high five and "man hug" his teammates. "Hey guys! This is Svetlana, the ballerina, please make her feel welcome,"

"Hi," I reply shyly, it felt like the first day at the Company when all I could say was 'hi.'

"Hi, Svetlana," The guys chorused in unison.

"Jordan! You made it!" A feminine voice exclaimed from behind us.

"Vero! Don't tell me you thought I would go back on my word and not come?" Jordan replied to a petite, very beautiful brunette.

"Of course not, is this Svetlana?" Vero, who Jordan identified in the car as "Flower's girlfriend," deflected, "You're prettier than he said you were,"

"Thank you," I say lowering my head, trying to conceal my blush.

"Jordan, why don't you come help me in the kitchen so Svetlana can meet the boys," Vero suggested as she walked into the kitchen.

"What? Shouldn't it be the other way around?" Jordan whined, but eventually acquiesced after Vero sent him a sharp look.

I merely nodded as I made my way to the couch, "Hey, Ballerina-chick! Sit with me!" I noticed an effervescent, light brown-haired man nearly yelled. What else could I have done but sat next to him? "I'm Tyler, Tyler Kennedy," he offered his hand to me and I shook it, "I used to room with Jordan before he got his own place," he added before giving Jordan the death stare, as he left the room.

"Svetlana, Svetlana Khitrova,"

"Ooh, Russian." The way he said made it seem like I was an oddity, "We got a few Russians on our team. By the way, where are the Russians?"

"Gonch is out having a "family" day," A man with raven hair said with a distinct French accent, putting air quotes around family, "I'm Kris, by the way,"

"Hi, Svetlana,"

"Okay so Gonch is with his "family," Ruslan said he wasn't gonna make it, so where's Geno?"  
Tyler asked, my heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name.

"Where else? With Tits McGee," Another teammate responded with dark brown hair, almost black, and pouty, full lips. Once he said this, the whole team groaned.

"Who's Tits McGee, that's a rather unfortunate name," I asked Tyler.

Tyler let out a hearty laugh before sighing, "Tits McGee is our nickname for Geno's girlfriend, you should see her. She looks like she's gonna fall over," _Geno's girlfriend_, he had forgotten about me and moved on for some girl who "looks like she's gonna fall over."

"That's so mean," I couldn't help but defend.

"Yeah, well she's so mean," Tyler retorted with everyone nodding in agreement. I found some comfort in his statement, the fact that everyone hated her gave me a better chance at being with Evgeni.

Soon, the guys wanted to change the mood by playing NHL 10. Eventually the guys became so absorbed by the video game that Kris struck up a conversation with me, seeing that only four people can play at once.

-

"So what's going on with you and Svetlana?" Vero asked, as she poured herself a mug of coffee. "You want some?"

"No, I'm fine," Jordan asked as he took a seat at the breakfast nook, "Nothing, I think,"

"You think?" Vero questioned as she sat across from him.

"Yeah, well it's like… I'm not sure what it's like. We're best friends, I guess."

"Best friends? So no feelings whatsoever?"

"I don't know. I have feelings for her, but I'm not sure if they're necessarily romantic. When I'm with her, I find myself standing up straighter, I'm more thoughtful, I find myself making time for her in my schedule just so I can see her and I text her constantly."

"You like her, don't you?"

"I don't- I don't know, I've never felt this way before. But, I don't want to lose her. I finally have a friend who isn't in some way, shape or form related to hockey and I don't feel like I need to talk about hockey when I'm with her. It's nice you know, my whole life has been hockey and when I'm with Sveta, it just doesn't matter as much. My life doesn't seem so centered around hockey. I feel more balanced."

"Balance… balance is good."

-

"Okay, everyone's wondering. What's going on with you and Jordan?" Kris suddenly asked, out of the blue.

"N-nothing! We're just friends. Everyone seems to think that we're dating but we're not. It's completely platonic," I argued back, maybe too quickly.

"Like I haven't heard that before," Kris muttered before changing the subject, "So you're a ballerina?"

"Yeah, I studied and worked in Russia before going on an exchange-type program to come here. I currently work at the Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre,"

"Oh? The team usually goes to the ballet performances "to support the arts"" Kris said adding a bit of sarcasm to the last part of his sentence, "It's boring as sin,"

"Hey!" I interject, offended by his comment, "It's only boring because you don't want to have an open mind and don't try to pay attention,"

"Come on, you're just going back and forth on the tips of your toes, pantomiming wildly, with the occasional turn and jump," Kris argued.

"It's not just about the steps or the pantomime. Ballet is about so much more. It's about making art with your body instead of brushes and paint. It's about taking the audience into a story, into a fantasy, beyond just steps and hand gestures. It's about emotions and feelings, and you, as the dancer, feel those emotions and convey them to the audience." I explained, as I tried to explain the ineffable.

"Wow," was all Kris said as he thought, "How does it feel when you dance?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Freedom, it's like freedom. Freedom from everyday life and for that one moment I slip into someone else's life. A life without crazy cab drivers, strict parents, a possibly anorexic roommate, a pas de deux partner who wants to be more than friends, an overly controlling company director, an extremely watchful doorman, an old boyfriend who's now dating a girl who is so top heavy she might just fall over!" I found myself getting more and more frustrated as I began ranting. Once the last phrase slipped off my tongue, I clamped my hand over my mouth, as if my other secrets would escape.

A look of realization swept over Kris, as his eyes widened, "No! No?" he exclaimed in denial. "You? You and Geno? Geno and you? When? How? Why?" Kris asked getting louder and louder.

"Shhh," I tried to quiet him down, so not to attract attention from the guys. "Yes, Geno and I. We grew up in the same town together in Russia. I guess we were what you call childhood sweethearts. But, when I had to leave our small city for Moscow to continue ballet, we were only able to write letters to each other. Then, the letters stopped when he came here. That's actually why I came to Pittsburgh, to find Evgeni."

Kris's mouthed formed a large "O." "It's like _The Notebook_ and _Legends of the Fall_ mixed in one. If it helps I've only known you for an hour and I already like you better than Oksana."

"Thanks, it kind of does." _Oksana, she's Russian, I guess some things don't change_, I thought grimly. "Wait, you watched _The Notebook_ and _Legends of the Fall_?"

"Hey, _Legends of the Fall_ is a war movie, and _The Notebook_ is a delightfully emotional film,"

"Right," I added, "Yeah and _The Wedding Planner_ is a film that should be taken very seriously."

"It is!" Kris exclaimed enthusiastically, "Oh you're being sarcastic," he added when he realized my tone.


	10. Made for Each Other

This took a while to get out, I was at a German language immersion camp and I couldn't post. To make it up to you guys I'll be posting the next chapter by this Sunday. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please review.

Also, I did do ballet and I'd like to think I had a good shot at going through either a pre-professional program or a college dance program but I hurt my knee and ankle. The ballet situation I am portraying is probably more likely to be seen in a ballet school than in a company. I took the liberties because I felt it created more drama. And I love drama!

Made for Each Other

"So you and Geno?" Kris asked again, "I just don't see it," he added exasperated.

"What do you mean?" I asked confused about his statement.

"It's just, I don't know, something about you and him don't mesh. Don't be offended, it's just that something about the fact that you're you and he's him just doesn't blend together in my head."

Before I could respond, Vero called us for lunch, yelling "Time for lunch!" from what I assumed was the kitchen.

We all gathered in Marc and Vero's spacious backyard as we took our seats at the large, wooden, picnic table with a red gingham tablecloth and bowls and platters of food upon the tablecloth. I sat between Kris and Jordan towards the end of the picnic table.

"Now before we all eat, I want to make a toast!" Sidney said, rising from seat, raising his red plastic cup filled with ice tea.

"Toast!" Everyone chorused in return, raising their glasses.

"To the start of a great season and winning the Stanley Cup!" Sidney exclaimed before taking a long drink.

"The start of a great season and winning the Stanley Cup!" We chorused back as we all drank from our cups.

"Let's eat!" Sidney said proudly as he sat back down. I filled my plate with salad and a portion of grilled chicken.

"Where's Geno?" Jordan asked innocently, as he took a bite of his hotdog, which was met with a collective sigh from everyone at the table, including me. "What?" he asked confused.

"He's apparently with this girl named Tits McGee," I said softly.

Jordan merely shook his head as her rubbed his temples and sighed, "Oh Geno, what has she done to you? You could so much better," he murmured more to himself than to anyone else in particular.

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"You should come to our game," Kris suggested casually as he ate.

"Sure that sounds fun, when does the season start? Not till October right?" I made mental calculations, today was September 19, meaning September 21nd we learn our roles for the Showcase, giving us less than a month to learn and perfect our routines. Then after the Showcase, which takes place October 9-11, we learn our roles for _The Nutcracker_ and that gives till December 19 to learn and perfect our parts for the show. The schedule was packed and I would have to be practicing and rehearsing for all day and logging several extra hours in the studio. I honestly wasn't sure if I had to time to see them play.

"Well, technically we start the season in Sweden, playing our first two games against the Senators in the beginning of October, then the actual games in North America start on October 11th," Kris said.

"The 11th? I'm performing on the 11th," I say fraught with disappointment, both from the fact that I won't be able to see them nor will they be able to see me.

"Is that the only day?" Jordan interjected.

"No, thank goodness, I'm also performing on the 9th and 10th."

"Good, I don't know about them but I'll watch you perform on the 9th and 10th, as long as you come and watch me smack the Flyers on the 14th," Jordan said as he pumped his fist in to the air with pride.

I laughed, "Deal, I'll definitely watch you guys play the Flyers, if you guys watch me dance."

"Smack, you are going to watch us 'smack' the Flyers," Jordan corrected teasingly.

"Right, I'm going to watch you smack the Flyers," I said between my laughter.

"And I'm gonna watch you kill at you're dance recital," Jordan said.

"We, we're gonna watch you kill at you're dance recital," Kris corrected jokingly.

"Hey! Look who decided to take time out of their day and come all the way here!" Marc said laughing, as he got up from his seat at the head of the table, to greet the two people approaching us.

It was him. It had to be him, he was wearing a plain pair of khaki shorts and a white, casual button up with sunglasses covering his chocolate eyes. It was Evgeni.  
"Ugh, there she is, the ice queen herself, Tits McGee," Kris groaned low enough that only those at the table could hear.

I looked at the woman following closely to Evgeni and she clung to him whenever possible. She was an ice blonde, or at least a dyed blonde, with tanned skin, that looked so tan it was almost orange, and pouty lips, that looked puffy with too much collagen. Her bleach blonde hair fell straight down her back to end just past her breastbone. Her blue eyes, which seemed too blue and too cold to be even real, were slightly obscured by her long bangs that grazed her eyelashes and were parted in the middle. Her orange halter top with a low V-neck, white Capri shorts and she wore high heeled sandals. With a white leather bag hanging off her arm with a Coach logo stamped onto the bag, her overall outfit looked too fancy and revealing to be appropriate for a barbeque and she indeed seemed to be falling over.

"Apparently, they met while Geno was still in Russia in a nightclub. She was still married to this rich businessman, and she got a divorce from her husband to be with Geno. Supposedly, she had to wait 9 months before she could come and they stayed in touch with emails and letters. Geno moved out of Gonch's place into a place of his own, so now she lives with him 'because he's so lonely without me.' That's a load of bull!" Jordan whispered in my ear, explaining the back story. I could feel my heart beating faster and faster, my cheeks flamed to a scarlet, as I thought of Evgeni and her in Russia, I imagined Evgeni writing her letters instead of writing me letters, I felt embarrassed and angry, but most of all I was heartbroken. The one man who I've loved more than anything, the one man who I've given everything, the one man was my everything.

"It's going to be okay," Kris whispered, "Screw her, screw him, we all like you better than her anyways."

"Thanks," I whispered back as I nodded and blinked away the tears I didn't know had formed.

"Geno, Oksana come eat, I don't think you've met Jordan's friend, Svetlana, yet?" Marc said. I lifted my head in response to hearing my name, which I instantly regretted because the instant I looked up, I looked up into his eyes. They were as warm as ever, and still chocolate brown, gone was the innocence of youth but replaced by knowing, a spark of maturity that I did not recognize. His eyes flashed with surprise as he instantly recognized me.

I was determined not be shaken by him, "Hi, I'm Svetlana, Jordan's friend," I said with determination, the determination not to be rattled by him, as I extended my hand towards him.

He shook my hand, his touch sent electricity up my arm, giving me goosebumps, "Evgeni, but everyone calls me Geno, Jordan's teammate," he said through his choppy English. But as our hands touched and our fingers inertwined, I found myself falling for him again, his voice was soft, almost pleading. His smile made me forgot why I was so angry. I may not have been angry but I was still heartbroken.

"I'm Oksana, Oksana Kondakova," the ice blonde interrupted, with her shrill voice, as she extended her hand, "I'm Geno's girlfriend," she said as if she was bragging. I shook her hand noticing how bony her arms were and how thin she was overall despite her large breasts, she looked like Barbie.

The two of them sat in the empty space across from us as they filled their plates, "I though you weren't going to come," Sydney said while glaring daggers at Oksana.

"We weren't, but the season's starting in a few weeks and there won't be a time where we can relax as a team for a long time," Evgeni responded through full mouths of food.

"So, Jordan, you jumped onto the Russian bandwagon, picked yourself up a Russian girlfriend, too," Oksana cooed as she stroked Evgeni's arm. I didn't like that she said "picked up" like I was picked from a catalogue.

I could see Jordan ball his hands into fists underneath the table so hard his knuckles were turning white. With his eyes narrowing at her, I touched his arm trying to calm him down, "It's okay, just correct her, don't make a scene," I whispered.

"Well, you know once you go Russian, you don't go back," Oksana said winking at me, as she laid her head on Evgeni's shoulder. I'm sure she meant it as a compliment but her tone and wink made it seem as if she was implying that I was a slut.

"Actually we're not together," Jordan said as calmly as possible, "We're just friends," almost hissing the last part and if looks could kill, Oksana would have been dead several times over with the glares Jordan and the rest of the team were giving her.

"Oh," Oksana sighed, "That's much too bad, for you I mean, not you, Jordan," Oksana added with a smile as she turned her icy blue eyes my way.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked frigidly with an edge in my voice I didn't know existed.

"Nothing, it's just that Jordan's famous and you're, well, not,"

"Not everyone's a money who-" Vero interrupted before being interrupted herself.

"Well, I'll let you know that Sveta here is a dancer for the Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre and she used to dance at this little ballet company in Russia, what was it called?" Jordan asked pretending to think.

"Something with a 'B,'" Kris said as he also pretended to think, "Ah, I know the Bolshoi!"

"Oh right, the Bolshoi, have you heard of it?" Jordan said smugly. The smirk on Jordan's face as Oksana scowled was priceless.

"That's good for you, Svetlana," was all she said through gritted teeth.

"Hey, Svetlana can you help me wash the dishes?" Vero asked politely, clearly sensing the mounting tension.

"Oh sure, anything to help," I respond as I get up from the table, picking up the empty plates.

"See you inside?" Jordan asked.

"Of course," I answered as I followed Vero into the kitchen.

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"You wash, I dry," Vero said quickly as she placed a stack of dirty dished in the sink. I quickly set to work on the dishes.

"So you and Jordan?" Vero asked as she dried the dishes that I had just washed.

"What about Jordan and me?" I asked trying to shrug off the feeling of déjà vu.

"Well, everyone wants to know. Are you two a couple?" she clarified as she stacked the dried dishes in a cabinet.

"No," I respond calmly while my mind was running wild with what Jordan could have said to Vero, "We're just friends. Why did Jordan say we were?"

"No, he said you guys were just friends. Everyone has just been really curious about you guys, we haven't seen Jordan like this with another girl before,"

"Really? He's such a sweet guy," I try to answer nonchalantly.

"He is, it's just he's just such a playboy. He doesn't hold onto a girl long enough to be serious enough that he wants her to meet us."

"Oh," I reply as I try to hide my disappointment, "What do you think Oksana?" I ask trying to change the subject.

"What's not to like?" Vero said dripping with sarcasm, "I mean not only is she totally fake but she's totally a bitch, too. Don't tell me you like her?"

I laughed, "No, not at all,"

"Good, I thought you two might have this Russian thing going,"

"No way, she's way too clingy and abrasive,"

"That's being generous," Vero joked as we both finished up washing and cleaning the dishes. We sat down at the breakfast nook, "You seem like a good girl and I hate to see you get hurt, but Kris told me about you and Geno,"

I sighed as I ran my hands through my hair, "How much did he say?" I was surprisingly not mad at Kris for betraying my secret but was slightly relieved. It was like a weight lifted off my chest, there was one less person to have to hide my feelings for Evgeni from.

"That you two were childhood sweethearts and that when you left for the Bolshoi you guys wrote letters to each other, then a little before he came here he stopped writing to you, which I'm assuming is when he met Oksana. Then you came here to find him and hopefully rekindle your love but you find him the Ice Queen instead."

"So he basically told you everything," I groaned, "I must sound so silly, so naïve."

"No, you sound like you're in love," Vero reassured, "You can still get him back, how can he not love you after you've been together for so long. Besides you're way better than the Wicked Witch of the East."

"Thanks," I smiled.

"No, thank you, it's been so great to actually talk to a girl, you know? We should get together more often. You wanna go to the mall sometime?"

"I'd love to go shopping with you. It's weird, I've been living in a dormitory with girls as roommates for about 4 years, but it's been a while since I've had girl talk."

"Why?" Vero asked puzzled.

"When you're at the professional and the pre-professional level, everyone is so focused on their dance. It's so competitive among the female dancers that we don't really create friendships, it's sad but true," I say reminiscing about my days at the Vaganova and Bolshoi, "This is like the first time I had friends outside of dance. It's nice, it's more balanced and peaceful,"

Vero made a weird face and chuckled, "This is so déjà vu. That is exactly what Jordan said,"

"What the part about not having girl talks?"

"No, the part about having friends outside of dance- for Jordan it was hockey, of course,- and it being more balanced and peaceful. You guys are like made for each other or something," Vero said laughing and eventually I started laughing too.

"Yeah, maybe we are," I agreed.


	11. Whispers in my Ear

As promised, I posted a chapter before the end of the week. I want to thank everyone who has read and commented this story! I'm trying to develop Sveta into a more outspoken character, more "western." Hope you guys like it, reviews are loved dearly! This again features my lame attempts at humor.

Whispers in my Ear

Between meeting and chatting to nearly everyone, I scarcely realized that it was nearly dinner time. While I was talking to plenty of people, I kept my distance from Oksana, which also meant I kept my distance from Evgeni. I found myself lying on the couch watching the guys play NHL 10 with Jordan sitting next to me with his arm draped around my shoulders.

"Gronk?" Tyler asked gesturing to a controller, "Want to take my place? I'm gonna get some water."

"No, it's okay," Jordan responded.

"You don't want to play?" I asked, feeling a pang of guilt for preventing him from having fun with his teammates.

"Nah, I like laying here with you, besides they are way too competitive," Jordan reassured.

"Well, that's ironic seeing as you are a professional athlete," I pointed out.

"I'm competitive, but they're just way too competitive," Jordan explained.

"Gronk?" I asked confused, "Pet name?" I teased.

"Ha, one of my many nicknames that my old friend Colby Armstrong gave me."

"Gronk, like the comic book character?" I asked.

"You know comic books?" Jordan asked in disbelief.

"There used to be this American guy in the dorms in Russia and he liked to read comic books," I explained.

"Ah, I see, yeah like the comic book. I supposedly look like a big kid on the ice which is how I got the nickname."

"You act like a big kid too," I teased, "Any other nicknames?"

"What is this 20 questions?"

"20 questions?" I asked unsure of what Jordan was referring to.

"You know, 20 questions, the game where you ask someone 20 questions about themselves and they have to tell the truth," Jordan explained.

"Oh, okay. Then, yes this is 20 questions. I want to know more about you,"

"Alright, I want to know more about you, too." Jordan said, "I've had a couple like Staalsy and Jord but Gronk is probably the most common one. How about you? Do you have any other nicknames other than Sveta?"

"Well, just one, Lana, but that's it," _Lana_, I thought, _**he**__ gave it to me_, "What are your dreams and ambitions?" I asked quickly trying to take my thoughts off of _**him**_.

"That's easy, win the Stanley Cup, of course. But shhh, I'm not supposed to talk about it. You? Any hopes and dreams?"

"I want to dance with the New York City Ballet or the American Ballet Theatre, two of the biggest companies in the entire world," I said starry-eyed, "That's my dream."

"You're so cute, you're like a little girl or something," Jordan teased, "Your turn ask me a question."

"Which of your brothers is your favorite?"

"Come on," Jordan said, "I can't answer that, I love them all equally."

"They aren't even here, its okay you can admit it. I won't tell, I promise."

"I don't know, Eric, I guess. He always takes my side, maybe because we're both blondes." Jordan said, "Okay, here's a good one. How many boyfriends have you had?"

I blushed instantly at the question, "One."

"One? One!" Jordan exclaimed. "How can someone like you only have had one boyfriend? We're counting serious relationships and casual hook-ups here."

"Yeah, I've only had one serious relationship and absolutely zero casual ones."

"You're not a lesbian, right? Not that I have anything against lesbians, it's just are you?"

"No, no! Of course not, there's nothing wrong with lesbians but I'm not one that's for sure."

"Then how can you have only one relationship, you're like my age."

"I don't know, I guess it's a combination of protective parents and having a profession that ends when your 30, if you're lucky. I spent my teenage years practically living in the studio."

"What a waste of a question, I was hoping to get something juicy."

"How abou-" I was about to ask him the same question but I stopped myself because deep down inside I didn't want to know. I didn't need, or want, to know how many girlfriends and casual "hook-ups" Jordan's had because inside I knew that the number was large and it scared me to know just how large it was. "What does you're family do?"

"We own a sod farm," Jordan said proudly, "In the summer, after the season, me and brothers help my parents out on the farm until camp begins."

"What's sod?"

"Well, sods… my life, or at least it was my life," Jordan joked, "If I didn't have hockey, I'd probably have taken over the farm. But sod's grass and the soil that has the roots, you know like the grass on a golf course or turf, not the plastic kind but the nice grass kind. The kind you roll out."

"Oh yeah, Jordan definitely likes sod, one time we were playing golf and Jordan just kept going on and on about the grass," Tyler remarked as he came back into the room.

"Hey, it was good quality sod. By that way that counts as a question."

"What! I was just wondering, what sod was," I defended.

"Hey a question's, a question," Jordan reasoned with a shrug of his shoulders. "How old were you when you had your first kiss?" Jordan asked with smirk, which I assumed meant that he was expecting a "juicy" story.

"I was 15," I said blushing as the question provoked old memories.

* * *

It was right after my recital, the first recital where I had a leading role. I snuck out of my room and went to the lake that was a little behind my home. The sky was a dark blue and the moon, round and full, with the stars twinkling with no dark clouds to obstruct them. I sat on the green grass when I heard clapping behind me and Evgeni saying, "Brava! Brava!"

I immediately got up and gave him a hug. "You really were amazing, Lana," he whispered in my ear as we embraced. After that we just sat on the grass and talked, when Evgeni suddenly asked, "Have you ever kissed someone?"

I merely shook my head, no.

"Me neither." We sat in a silence, merely enjoying the presence of one another. When Evgeni said, "I'll walk you home, it's getting late."

I nodded as we made our way to my home. As we stood outside the open window that I used to sneak out, Evgeni suddenly pressed his lips against mine in a chaste kiss and he hurriedly said his goodbyes and ran back to his house.

* * *

"Are you going to tell me about it?" Jordan asked pulling me out of my thoughts.

"That's another question!" I exclaimed, "If you want to know how it happened then you'll have to ask another question," I added mysteriously.

"What? That's like built into the question! Fine," Jordan pouted, "How did your first kiss happen?"

"My boyfriend was walking me home and before I went inside, he just kissed me," I said, oversimplifying the story, still hesitant to 'spill the beans' -as Alicia would say- about Evgeni.

"That's it?" Jordan said in disbelief, "No offense but you have a boring love life."

"I was 15!" I defended.

"Yeah, yeah but how old is 15 really? I mean, when I was 15, I was already playing with the Petes in the OHL and I was already planning on entering the NHL draft."

"Well that's one thing we have in common."

"What do you mean?"

"Ha!" I exclaimed, "That counts as another question!"

"I've created a monster," Jordan groaned, "It's not a contest, you know?"

"Hey, a question's a question," I said in a mocking tone, mimicking how he said it earlier, "And this is kind of like a contest, who can learn more about each other."

"Still not a contest."

"Whatever, your just mad because you're losing," I added teasingly, "Anyways, when I was 15, I was starting my pre-professional classes and I had already accepted an offer to join the Bolshoi ballet," I said nostalgic for the past, "We both had our futures set by 15," I added more somberly.

"Yeah, I guess we did," Jordan said, "But those choices at 15 brought me here and it brought you here. Your turn, ask me a question."

"Why hockey? Out of all sports, why did you choose hockey?"

"Seriously? I'm Canadian, it's what we do and my dad built this great outdoor rink, it was incredible. It was like the Taj Mahal of all outdoor hockey rinks," Jordan said with a glazed over look in his eyes, "I guess it wasn't really a choice but it wasn't forced on me at the same time."

"Me too!" I said excitedly, "With ballet it was like a tradition in my family that I should do ballet but I just loved it the entire time so it wasn't necessarily forced upon me."

"The similarities are just mounting, aren't they?" Jordan joked.

"Yeah, they are. What is your hometown like?" I asked.

"Where to start with Thunder Bay… it's your typical small town, lots of farms and green everywhere, but in the winter everything is white and covered by snow. If you go downtown, it's like a big city, lots of buildings and some nightlife, but most kids go out of town if they want to club or they go to a barn party, if it's summer. Aside from the semi-hardcore party scene, it's a nice, quiet place, a great place to grow up and raise a family," Jordan said looking off into space as if he was imagining himself there.

"Sounds great," I said, looking at how starry-eyed Jordan was as he described his hometown, "You must really love it there."

"You should come see it sometime," Jordan said as he turned his head, locking his blue eyes with my golden ones.

In that moment, we weren't just friends, we were more. In that moment, I was suddenly felt more aware of his arm that was wrapped around my shoulders, more aware of how close our bodies were. In that moment, I felt the sudden urge to press my lips against his in a 'chaste kiss.' In that moment, I felt a spark, a flicker that made my heart skip a beat. And I think, in that moment, he felt it too because he leaned in.

Our cheeks nearly brushing, as he whispered in my ear, "Your turn." My eyes fluttered shut, as his lips brushed against my cheek while he spoke, "Describe me your hometown," he continued. The moment felt so intimate, so personal.

I opened my mouth to answer, but I was interrupted by the loud cheers of Evgeni and Sidney and the groans of Max and Kris. The loud cheers destroyed the moment, the intimacy. We immediately pulled away from each other and tried to figure out what just happened.

"I'm so happy for you baby! I knew you would win!" Oksana said in her signature nasally, high voice, as she sat in his lap and did to Evgeni what Alicia would call "tonsil hockey."

"Get a room!" Practically everyone in the room shouted, as they threw pillows at the couple, which earned them a sheepish grin from Evgeni and, thankfully, made them promptly stop.

"Time for dinner!" Vero proclaimed as she emerged from the kitchen.

As we all filed into the dining room, I found myself sitting between Max, who I haven't talked to yet, and Jordan.

"Max Talbot," Max said offering me his hand which I shook.

"Svetlana Khitrova, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Believe me, the pleasure is all mine," Max said wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, which made me laugh.

"Nice try Max, but she's a nice girl," Tyler joked.

"Nice girls are the ones you have to look out for," Max said wiggling his eyebrows again.

Tyler just sighed as the food was being served.

"So you're a ballerina?" Max asked, like everyone else.

"Yup," I said, "Living the dream."

Max chuckled, "I did ballet once, at hockey camped," his eyes narrowed, "It sucked."

"I'm assuming you weren't good at it," I teased.

"You could say that, but let's just say I have plenty of respect for what you do."

"I'm glad," I said as I eagerly ate the food set before me, "I had to spend a good amount of time trying to get Kris to be at least semi-interested in ballet."

"That's Kris, we go, as a team, to the ballet a lot to show that we support the arts. So maybe we'll get to see you perform as Giselle or Odette soon."

"I doubt that I'll get the lead roles, besides I think we're doing a new production this year, _Moulin Rouge _so you'll more likely seem me can-canning across the stage."

"See Tyler, it's the good girls you got to look out for," Max nudged as he winked at me, "Hear that she'll be can-canning across the stage soon." Max added with his perfect French, "_Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir_?" repeating the famous line from the song "Lady Marmalade."

"_Dans tes rêves_, (In your dreams)" I replied, rolling my eyes, ballet had several French terms and it was customary for us to learn the language at the Academy.

"_Vous parlez français_? (You speak French?)" Max asked in disbelief.

"_Bien sûr_, (Of course,)" I said.

"Jordan, I like this one, don't mess it up," Max said to Jordan.

"We're not dating," Jordan and I said in unison, earning us a confused look from Max, "We're just friends," I added.

"Ah, just friends, much better! That means that you guys can't break up and I have a chance with you," Max said winking at me. I instantly felt the blood rush to my cheeks.

"Look Max, you got her blushing," Tyler teased.

"Don't be too proud, Max. She blushes easy," Jordan added jokingly.

"You would know?" Max asked raising one eyebrow.

"I would, we are friends, after all," Jordan added with a mysterious smirk earning an eyebrow raise from both Max and Tyler.

"What part of Russia are you from?" Oksana asked when she detached herself from Evgeni. The question made Evgeni look at me, for the first time since lunch, he looked at me with pleading eyes, eyes asking me to not tell them about us.

"Hmm, oh Southern Russia, the Southwestern part of Russia," I answered vaguely.

"Oh, wasn't there like a nuclear accident there in the 50's?" Oksana asked insinuatingly.

"Actually that was in Chelyabinsk, which is in the same region but it's not where I'm from," I clarify.

"What city do you come from?" Oksana asked, pressing the subject more.

"Magnitogorsk," I said sharply, her tone made me want to rip out all of her fake blonde hair.

"Oh that's the place with all the pollution, right?" Oksana said with fake smile plastered on her face.

"Well it is a factory city, but I grew up near the river, some distance from the city, so the pollution wasn't as bad," I clarified.

"Magnitogorsk," Sidney said slowly, as if testing the foreign sounds of the word on his tongue, "Isn't that where you're from Geno?"

"Yeah, it is," Evgeni said simply.

"How weird, you guys grew up in the same place but you guys didn't meet till you both left your hometowns," Sidney said in disbelief, "It's like fate or something."

"Yeah, how strange," I said looking Evgeni right in the eyes, "What part of Magnitogorsk did you grow up in?"

"More in the city, close to the old stadium," Evgeni said tersely.

"That's so weird. I used to go to the ballet academy near there. Odd our paths never crossed."

"Maybe our paths did cross but we just never noticed each other," Evgeni said.

My hands trembled in my lap as I wondered how I could keep up this charade, this charade where Evgeni and I were nothing but two strangers but sadly, it felt like this charade was becoming less and less a charade, and more and more true.

"I find that hard to believe. How can you not notice a girl like Sveta?" Kris asked, coming to my rescue.

"Yeah, how can he notice Tits McGee but not Sveta?" Max muttered low enough so that the 'loving couple' wouldn't hear him.

"That's sweet of you guys to say, but there are a lot of people in Magnitogorsk, so it doesn't surprise me if we had met and if he didn't remember me,"

"I think I'd remember you," Evgeni said cryptically.

"I think I'd remember you, too," I replied softly with a slight smile which Evgeni returned with his own smile, a smile of knowing and thanks for keeping up the charade.

"So why did you come to Pittsburgh? I mean you must have had other offers from other companies," Oksana said, effectively ruining our moment, "Unless you weren't that good."

"If you must know, I had offers from London, Berlin, and Paris, but I chose Pittsburgh because it reminded me of home." And there was someone from home, here too, I thought but would never say out loud. "Magnitogorsk's city plan was based off of Pittsburgh and both are prominent centers of steel production. Also, I've always wanted to dance with the New York City Ballet or the American Ballet Theatre. I figured I would have a better chance of them noticing me here, in the United States," I replied dryly, taken aback by her rudeness. "Besides, I heard that Pittsburgh had a great hockey team," I added with a smirk. I'm not a person who relishes in the pain of others, but at that moment I was. I relished the scowl that was on Oksana's face.

"Yeah, it does!" Tyler exclaimed referring to my comment about Pittsburgh having a great hockey team.

"Oh, so Pittsburgh is just a stepping stone for you," Oksana said after composing herself with an evil grin on her face.

"I guess that makes two of us," I replied, with a smug smirk, as my comment wiped the grin right off her face. I've never been this mean before, even when I wanted and tried to, but something about Oksana made me this way.

"Nice one ballerina!" Max remarked, barely containing his glee, "High 5!"

I sheepishly grinned as I "high fived" him. But, I instantly regretted what I said, my insides churned as the scene kept repeating and repeating in my head. When I looked at Evgeni, the look on his face was one of questioning, pleading, asking me why I just did what I did, and to be honest all I could do was shrug because I did not even know why I did what I did. An awkward silence filled the room. It settled upon us like heavy snow, blanketing everything.

"Today's been fun, but I think it's time for us to leave," Evgeni said as he got up from the table, "And Oksana's tired, I'll see you guys on Monday at practice. It's been nice meeting you, Svetlana."

As we all chorused our goodbyes, I started to make my way to them, I wanted to walk them out, I wanted to apologize to Oksana, and I wanted, most of all, to talk to Evgeni. But before I could, someone grabbed my arm, "What do you think you're doing?" I turned to see that it was Jordan. "Don't tell me you're going to apologize. It's all over your face, you're guilt ridden. She deserved it, with the way she's been acting towards you, towards all of us, she deserved it." Jordan reassured as he pulled me down to sit down next to him on the couch. "Let's get back to our game of 20 questions," Jordan whispered in my ear, so close that I could feel his hot breath on my neck.


	12. 20 Questions, Part Deux

Sorry if it was a little hard to follow with all the shifts from Svetlana's point of view to Jordan's. It's not my favorite chapter but I'm happy with it. Sorry, if the formatting and spacing is a little wonky, I'm still trying to figure out how to space it out correctly. I want to thank everyone who reads, subscribed and reviewed this story.

* * *

**20 Questions, Part Deux**

_Why are you doing this?_ The question echoed in my head as I whispered in Sveta's ear the answer to the last question in our game of 20 questions, I knew that I was closer than I should be. I was close enough that I could smell her strawberry-scented hair, my lips brushed against the supple skin of her cheek- _Why are you doing this? We're just friends_. You're doing this because you're jealous. You're jealous of how close Sveta's gotten with Kris, Tyler and Max, and she seems to have this Russian connection with Geno. You're jealous of how Max flirted with her at dinner, you're jealous of how Geno looked at Sveta, you're jealous of how Kris rubbed her shoulder and whispered to her at lunch, like they shared a secret only they knew. _You shouldn't be jealous_, you introduced them to her, you practically threw her into their arms. Besides, _we're just friends_. No you're jealous because you don't want to be just friends, my subconscious told me, that's why you're whispering in her ear and flirting with her. You're claiming her, marking her as your's. _God, I'm like a dog or something_, "So pathetic," I mumbled to myself.

"What?" Sveta asked with those innocent, doe eyes.

"Nothing, just talking to myself," I replied, "Don't worry about it," I added as I brushed a strand of her silky, chestnut brown hair, that fell into her eyes, out of her face and tucked it behind her ear.

"Gronk, uh, can you help me out?" Tyler asked.

"Sure, what do you need?"

"I need help," Tyler stated again, "In the kitchen, now."

"I'll be right back, alright?" I said to Sveta, who just nodded, as I grudgingly got up and followed Tyler into the kitchen.

* * *

"I'm Sidney, we talked for a little bit earlier," A man with dark hair, pouty lips and pretty eyes said as Jordan left, offering me his hand which I shook. I recalled speaking to him, but speaking would be an exaggeration, he had merely said 'good job,' to me after I told Oksana off.

"Svetlana, I remember," I replied with a smile.

"You're a ballerina?"

"Is that the question of the day?" I asked teasingly.

Sidney laughed before responding, "I guess it is, but are you? Jordy tends to exaggerate."

"Yes, I am a ballerina," I replied, the way he said how Jordan exaggerated made me hate to think what he thought I did for a living.

"Hmm, I've never met a ballerina before," Sidney replied pensively as he rubbed his jaw.

"That's too bad," I said teasing him, "We're a nice group of people, a touch competitive but still nice, I'd like to think."

"I'm starting to think they're more of the teasing type," Sidney joked, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Nice try, Sid," Max said with his eyes still glued to the TV screen, "If she won't go for me, she definitely won't go for you," which caused us both to laugh.

"You don't date hockey players?" Sidney asked much to his chagrin, "You're really missing out, we're a nice group of people, a touch competitive but still nice," Sidney added mimicking how I said it earlier, which made me laugh.

"I used to date a hockey player," I stated.

"Good memories or bad memories?"

"G-" I started, but I bit my lip, "Both."

"I'm glad, for the good part, sorry, for the bad part. Whatever he did, we're not all like that, I hope you know, some of us are really good guys."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," I said blandly.

"I mean it," Sidney said earnestly, "Geno, he just has bad taste in women." My heart beat a little quicker at the mention of his name, but Sidney's comment hurt. 'He just has bad taste in women,' I couldn't help but think that Sidney's comment applied to me. It hurt to just entertain that idea, it ached to just think of him. Sidney continued to talk, not noticing that I was not paying him a lot of attention, "Max, well he's not that picky with women. Kri-"

"I heard that!" Max exclaimed while playing NHL 10, as he blindly threw a pillow at Sidney, not taking his eyes off the TV for a second.

"Bottom line is we're not all bad guys and you should give us a chance," Sidney said.

"I'm really confused," I said giving him an incredulous look, "Are you trying to convince me to date a hockey player? Did Max put you up to this?"

The last question earned me a laugh from Sidney, "I'm just saying, don't over generalize and keep your options open,"

"Um…" I said in disbelief, "Okay, I will?" I added, saying it more like a question than a statement because I was unsure what his motives where.

* * *

"What do you need help with man?" I asked as I stood in the empty kitchen with Tyler.

"What's going on with you and Svetlana?" Tyler asked.

"I don't understand what you're talking about. We're just friends, okay," I said as I turned on my heel and started to make my way to the door, but before I could push it open, Tyler grabbed my arm.

"Who do you think you're fooling? Because frankly, man, I think the only one you're fooling is Sveta." I just stood there with one hand on the wooden door, ready to push it open and walk out, but I couldn't. I was frozen by what Tyler was saying. "You gotta tell her how you feel, or you're gonna get friend zoned,"

"Tyler, look-"

"Just listen to me, the friend zone is a very real place and you're heading there," The determination in Tyler's eyes told me to stay, it was the same determination he had when he was on the ice, "Just don't- don't end up screwing this up because you're too damn stubborn to see that you like her. 'Cause if you don't, someone else will. Just look out there," Tyler said, pushing the door open to reveal Sveta and Sid talking and laughing and, dare I say it, flirting.

* * *

"Sveta," I heard Jordan say with a more serious tone, "I think we should leave, it's getting late."

"Can't we stay a little longer? I'm having so much fun," I pleaded like a child, but the look in his eyes told me not press it further, "You know what, I think we should leave. I have to make curfew," I added as I stood up and walked over to where Jordan was. "It was nice to meet you all. I hope I can get to know you guys better."

"Bye," the guys chorused as Vero walked us out.

"Drive safe, and Sveta don't forget to call, so we can go shopping," Vero said as we left, "Guys, come back soon, okay? It get's boring with just Marc here."

When we sat in the car, it was silent, something that it never was when I was with Jordan, usually the radio would be on or we would talk but now, it was just dead silent. I looked over at Jordan and his jaw was clenched and his knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so hard.

"Thank you for letting me meet your friends," I said, "I had a really good time."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, they were all very nice."

"I'm sure they were," Jordan mumbled, as he started the car and started driving.

"Are," I started, "Are you mad at me?"

"What?" Jordan asked in disbelief, as he took his eyes off the road to look at me, "Why would you think that?"

"It's just, I don't know. That can be the only reason why you're acting the way you are now," I reasoned.

Jordan merely sighed and ran a hand through his messy blonde hair, "I'm not mad at you, I'm just mad at- I don't know, I guess I'm mad at myself, my friends. But, I'm not mad at you, never you,"

"Okay," I said with a smile, the distraught look on his face made me choose to not pursue the topic. But as we turned onto the freeway, we were instantly met with traffic.

"Ugh," Jordan groaned, "Looks like we might be here a while."

"That's alright," I shrug, "We can just talk, or play 20 questions again!" I add excitedly. While no one likes being stuck in traffic, deep down inside I was happy, it would give us time to talk, just the two of us.

"Do you only know 20 questions?" Jordan teased, "Well, we can play a modified version. We each get 5 questions, that should make things more interesting."

"Okay! You go first,"

* * *

"Okay! You go first," Sveta replied with a child-like innocence. The magic words, I thought, time to get some answers.

"Alright, what were you and Sid talking about when I was in the kitchen?" I asked, I knew the question was forward and I sounded like a jealous jerk but, heck, I probably am one. I focused on the road, instead of looking her in the eyes, just looking at her would make me feel guilty.

"What do you mean?" She asked flustered, she must have been caught off guard.

"Since we only get 5 questions that one won't count, but what were you and Sid talking about when I was in the kitchen," I answered tersely, the words coming out sharper than I meant to.

* * *

I wasn't necessarily caught off guard by his question, per say, but I was more caught off by how distant he sounded, how he wouldn't even look me in the eyes when he asked the question, "We were talking about," I said hesitating to say the rest, I took a deep breath before continuing, "How I should keep my options open when it comes to dating and that I shouldn't over generalize," I finished as I looked at Jordan to see his reaction.

"Why woul-" he started but I interrupted him. This was the time to come clean and be honest. I couldn't lie to him, there was something obviously bothering him, his blue eyes were troubled and I couldn't bear to add to it.

"We were talking about how Sidney wouldn't have a chance with me because I don't date hockey players. Then I explained that I dated a hockey player before, and that brought back good and bad memories. So, Sidney said that not all hockey players are bad guys and that some of them are really nice. He also said that I should give you guys a chance," I said looking over at Jordan, trying to gauge his reaction.

"He's right, we are good guys and you shouldn't be scared to date a hockey player because one guy was an ass," Jordan said with a smile, "We're not all Sean Avery," he added jokingly.

"My turn, what did you and Tyler talk about in the kitchen? I know he didn't need your help, Tyler's a terrible liar, worse than me. So what did you guys talk about?"

* * *

"What did you and Tyler talk about in the kitchen?" she asked with a genuine curiosity.

"You," I replied simply and honestly, "I was trying to convince Tyler that you and I are just friends," so maybe I wasn't being completely honest but I couldn't tell her 'we talked about how if I don't tell you I like you're gonna friend zone me.' She probably doesn't even know what the friend zone is.

"Oh," she replied stunned, "Can I ask my next question now, it kind of relates."

"Sure,"

"Did you convince him?" she asked more seriously, she drew her up to her chest and clasped her hands around her knees.

"No," I replied, I couldn't lie to her, she looked so innocent as she rested her cheek on her knees looking at me with those eyes, "I couldn't convince Tyler that we are just friends," _how could I convince Tyler when I can't even convince myself_, I thought to myself.

"I hope he doesn't get any wrong ideas…" She said softly with hint of a smile on her lush lips, "Your turn."

"Would you date a hockey player?" I asked, "Even though you had that bad experience with that one guy," we had managed to escape the traffic as I finished my question. I knew I sounded pathetic, but I needed to know. I needed to know.

* * *

"Would you date a hockey player?" he asked, he didn't have his signature smirk or a playful grin when he asked this question. He was dead serious and it scared me.

I instantly thought of Evgeni, "If the right one came along, I wouldn't just date a hockey player because he was a hockey player."

"Good, that means I might have a chance," I said, "Your turn, ask me a question."

"Uh, uh," I was flabbergasted by his remark. He had a jaunty smile on his face that was hard to read. I felt my cheeks heat up as I blushed, "I can't think of a question."

* * *

"Uh, uh," she stuttered as her cheeks blushed to a shade that resembled strawberries. Strawberries, the way her hair smells, strawberries, the way I bet her lips would taste like, strawberries, the way- Stop it Jordan. Control yourself. "I can't think of a question," she said softly. It made me wonder, what made her blush, what I said or that she can't think of a question.

"Don't worry, I have more than enough questions for you," I said being purposefully vague. "What did your ex do to you that scarred you so much that you have an aversion to hockey players?"

* * *

"I didn't say that I was scarred and he didn't do anything that bad," I said in a soft voice. I felt so pathetic, with the tears welling in my eyes and how I was defending _**him**_.

"What did he do?" Jordan said his voice laced with concern.

"Everything was so perfect," I said my voice cracking, "But I had to leave, I had to go to Moscow, to the Bolshoi, and he had to stay. He played for the local hockey team, Metallurg Magnitogorsk, so he had to stay. We wrote letters to each other, everyday. But then they stopped, they just stopped," I continued, as a single teardrop made it's way down my face, "Then I found out, he found someone else. A friend of mine told me that he had met this woman at a club, and that this woman was going to get a divorce so she could be with him." I wrapped my arms around myself, as if it was the only way it would my fragile heart together. It was odd, telling the story to Kris or Sidney or Vero didn't leave me this emotional, but now as I told it to Jordan, I was a mess. Maybe because when I told Kris, I didn't know that Evgeni had still been in Russia when he stopped writing me, I didn't know how awful Oksana was, but now I'm here with Jordan confronting reality.

"Screw him," Jordan said, "If he can't see that he had something good right in front of him, then screw him. He doesn't deserve you." I hadn't noticed it but we were already in front of my apartment complex.

"Thank you," I whispered, "I'm sorry for crying in front of you," I added as blinked away the fresh tears.

"Don't worry about it, I shouldn't have asked the question," he said as he rubbed my back in comforting circles.

"No, it's good. I needed to let it out. I needed a catharsis," I said forcing a smile on my face.

"I have one more question," Jordan said as he wiped a tear from my face.

"Go ahead," I nodded.

"What are you doing next Saturday night?"


	13. Split Second

I apologize for taking so long to post. I've been busy with graduation stuff. I hope you guys like this chapter. It was going to be longer but I've split it up because I want certain scenes to stand-alone. This isn't my favorite chapter but I hope you guys like it! I have about 3 chapters ready to post so bear with me as I get them up, hopefully by the end of the week. Please review!

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**Split Second**

"What are you doing next Saturday night?" Jordan asked.

"Umm," I said caught off guard, "I don't know, probably nothing. Why?"

"Wanna go out? Maybe we could see a movie or something,"

"Sure," I said confused, "That sounds like fun."

"How about tomorrow? What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Nothing, I think," I said, "Oh! I have to go to lunch tomorrow with this guy from my building."

"What?" Jordan asked, and, for a split second, jealousy flashed into his blue eyes.

"Yeah, he's been wanting to go out with me but I keep telling him 'no.' He's my partner for pas de deuxs in class, so I just agreed to lunch with him to tell him we can't date."

"Oh," Jordan said, sounding relieved, "Well, text me or something if you want to hang out."

"Sure," I said with a smile, I kissed his cheek and gave him a hug, "I had fun today."

"Me too," Jordan said, still in our embrace, we hugged for longer than what was necessary and I didn't want to leave his warm embrace. It felt safe and warm and comfortable and I wanted to stay like this forever. "Let me walk you to the door," Jordan said as I reluctantly withdrew from his embrace. Like a perfect gentleman, he opened my door for me and helped me out.

"Thank you," I whispered, shivering at the sudden gust of cold air.

"It got really cold," Jordan said with little puffs of smoke appearing as he breathed, "Here, wear my jacket," Jordan said as he draped his blue zipper hoodie over my shoulders. It was the exact same blue as his eyes, it smelled like him, and was still warm with his body heat.

"Thank you," I said as I slipped my arms into the too-long sleeves.

"Let's get you inside," Jordan said as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and we walked to the door of the apartment building, where I spied Robinson spying on us, "Is that your doorman? The guy who's looking at us."

"Yeah," I said grudgingly nodding as we reached the glass doors of the red brick apartment building.

Jordan pulled me into a quick hug. "Don't forget to text me."

I nodded, "I won't." I went inside the apartment building.

"Aren't you guys moving a little fast?" A deep bass voice said, which I instantly recognized as Robinson's.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you've only known him for a month and you're already spending the whole day with him and wearing his clothes," Robinson said gesturing to the oversized jacket.

"We're just friends, he's just being chivalrous," I said coldly as I made my way to the elevators.

"I'm sure Alex would be happy about that," Robinson muttered in a low voice, but I had an inkling that he meant for me to hear it.

I wrapped Jordan's jacket tight around my body as I waited for the elevator to take me up. As I walked out of the elevator, I saw Anna walking into the elevator,

"Hi," I said politely with a smile.

"Hi," Anna said, cocking an eyebrow when she noticed the jacket I was wearing, "Had a good time?" she said her voice full of insinuations.

"Yes, I did, how was your day?" I asked.

"Fine," she said coolly as the elevator doors closed. I walked to the apartment and quickly opened the door and I was met with the image of Alicia on the floor with all of her makeup supplies spread out on the floor.

"Hi?" I said, "What are you doing?"

"Oh! Hi!" Alicia said, her usual happy self, "I'm reorganizing my makeup case. How was your day? Good?" she asked.

"Yup, loads of fun," I said, "I think I'm just gonna take a shower and sleep. I'm really tired,"

"Okay, sleep well. By the way, I might be going out with Anna, so don't be alarmed if you wake up and no one's home,"

"Alright," I said as I made my way to my room. I took a quick shower and I just laid on my bed, wearing my pajamas, which were a pair of sweatpants and my worn out Metallurg Magnitogorsk shirt, and Jordan's jacket. I slipped under the covers as I reflected on what had transpired today. Somewhere between reminiscing about putting Oksana in her place and the car ride home, I found tears streaming down my face. I pulled the covers over me and zipped up Jordan's jacket, pulling its hood over my head, wishing to be surrounded by the comforting smell of his cologne. The more I thought about Evgeni, the more tears came to my eyes and eventually turned the few tears turned to crying. The smell of Jordan still lingering on the jacket seemed like the only thing that kept me from curling myself into a ball and weeping. Somewhere between thinking of Evgeni and me and the thought of Oksana and Evgeni together, I had cried myself to sleep.

When I woke up my eyes were burning, my throat was dry, and my face felt sticky from the tears. I ran my tongue over my chapped lips, puckering my face at the unexpected taste of salt, as I sat up in my bed. I hung Jordan's jacket on a hanger before I ventured to the kitchen for breakfast.

"This is our humble abode," Alicia said as she opened the door revealing her and a camera crew. "And this is the newest addition to our roost, Svetlana."

I meekly waved as I ate my oatmeal and bananas. "Not to be rude, but what are they doing here?"

"Oh Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre is setting up a YouTube channel and they want videos to post. It's supposed to be a way to be more relevant and to connect with the ballet fans. They'll be doing profiles, interviews, a Crib's-like special, you know the works," Alicia explained as she continued to give a tour of our apartment.

I scraped the last remnants of oatmeal out of my bowl, ate what was left and washed the bowl. After washing the bowl, I felt the vibration of my cell phone, notifying me of a new text. I giddily opened my phone to see who the text was from, hoping it was Jordan, but I stared puzzled at the unknown number. The text read: "I'll come down to pick you up for lunch at 12:30 –Alejandro." I stared at the text confused, I didn't remember giving him my number.

"Okay," I texted in reply. I checked the clock it read 10:07 AM, giving me over two hours to get ready. It's just lunch, I told myself, I don't need two hours. I sound so hypocritical, I needed 3 hours to get ready for my dinner with Jordan and now I'm saying I need less than 2 hours to get ready for a lunch with another friend. I was pulled out of my thoughts when I heard the door close. "They're done already?"

"The apartment portion yeah, but they'll come back later to film us actually living in the apartment. Penny for your thoughts?"

I wrinkled my brow in frustration, "I'm wondering how Alejandro got my number and how much time I'll need to get ready for lunch with him today,"

"Wait, are you saying that you didn't give Alex your number."

"Yeah…" I said trailing off, not seeing where Alicia was going.

"I gave Alex your number because he said he lost it when he changed phones. What a creeper…" Alicia said, "You're having lunch with him?"

"Yeah he's coming here at half past noon."

"And you're not obsessing about getting ready?" Alicia asked incredulously.

"No, I don't think I'll need that much time, it's only 10,"

"You know what that means don'tcha?"

"No, what does it mean,"

"Means you either have absolutely no interest in him romantically or you guys are so comfortable with each other you don't need to dress up to impress him. Which is it?"

"Well, I only see him as a friend, so I guess the former?" I said confused.

"Weird, you guys have so much chemistry when you guys are dancing with each other," Alicia's skepticism evident.

"It's just acting," I said with a shrug of my shoulders.

"Yeah but it's not convincing when you don't have that spark, and you guys definitely have that spark," Alicia said.

"Well, I don't see him in that way," I said slowly, "We're just friends."

"He obviously doesn't know that," Alicia pointed out, "He lied to get your number and he's taking you to lunch. Plus, you guys have great chemistry, so he's probably thinking you guys got this great love connection."

I sighed, "I guess I'll have to tell him that I don't see him as anything other than a friend."

"Let him down easy, you don't want to ruin a perfectly good partnership and Alex is a nice guy." Alicia said.

I nodded, "I will," I said, "Where's Anna?" I asked changing the subject.

"Oh shooting some clips and stuff for her profile on YouTube. Isn't this so cool! Everyone will get to see us and it's like free promotion,"

"Yeah I guess," I said unsure of the whole idea, "It seems like everyone will get to see into our personal lives."

"Oh no it's not gonna be like that, it's gonna be more like for the fans, you know? We'll be able to connect with a whole new audience. The videos will offer tips, interviews, answer questions, you know fun stuff like that."

"I guess," I repeated still not as enthusiastic as Alicia.

"It'll be fun. Don't be such a kill joy," Alicia stated, almost demanded. Then a smirk spread across her lips and a sly look in her eyes, "Should I ask why you came home last night wearing a jacket that's about twice your size?"

"I'd rather you didn't,"

"Too bad, I am," Alicia joked, "Why did you come home last night wearing a jacket that's about twice your size?"

"Jordan gave it to me to wear because I was cold," I said reluctantly.

"What's so bad about that?"

"I don't know, the way Anna and Robinson looked at me when they saw me wearing it," I said with a shudder, "They looked at me with all these accusations in their eyes."

"Nah," Alicia said reassuringly, "They're just jealous, don't mind them."

"Thanks," I said softly.

"No problemo, now let's get you ready to tell Alex that you guys are just friends," Alicia said as she grabbed my hand and half-led-half-dragged me to my about a half hour of fussing later, I had showered and was dressed in a peachy pink, jersey tank top with sequins and colored thread detailing flowing from the shoulders, black pin stripe shorts and rose gold flats. My dark hair was curled into loose, soft waves and my make up was natural. "_Très magnifique, non_?" Alicia said in her fake French accent.

"You don't think it's a little much? It's just lunch with a friend,"

"Nope, it's perfect," she reassured, "Just don't spill anything on the shorts," Alicia joked reminding me that I was borrowing her shorts.

"I promise, I won't," I said.

"What time did you say he was coming?" Alicia asked and almost as if on cue there was a knocking on the door, "Speak of the devil," Alicia said making devil horns with her fingers, "I'll get it, you just sit tight." I nodded as I slipped some cash and my cell phone into my pockets. I could hear the usual greetings and formalities between Alicia and Alejandro as she invited him in, "Oh she's getting ready, you know how we girls are? I'll go get her for you," I could hear Alicia say as she knocked on my door and walked in. "Okay, so he's here, remember the game plan," Alicia said putting her hands on my shoulders as I nodded, "What's the game plan, again?"

"Let him down easy, tell him we should just be friends, order water, and split the bill," I said from memory as Alicia had been drilling it into my head while she had been choosing my outfit.

"And?"

"Don't spill anything on the shorts,"

"Good girl, now you're ready," Alicia said as she lead me out of my room and into the living room where Alejandro was sitting on the couch absentmindedly, reading a magazine.

"Hi," I said shyly, as I noticed that Alejandro was wearing a pair of black jeans and a casual gray flannel button up with the top buttons undone.

"Hey," Alejandro said getting up from the couch, "You look good,"

"Thanks, Alicia helped me get ready," I said looking at the floor, suddenly feeling nervous and shy.

"Well it suits you," Alejandro said flashing his signature pearly white smile, "We should be heading out, now."

"Oh yeah sure," Alicia said as she walked us to the door, "Have fun, don't do anything I wouldn't do," Alicia added with a wink as she closed the door.

The walk to the elevator and through the lobby was awkward to say the least, it was quiet and neither of us weren't really sure what to say before finally Alejandro said, "So we're going to this café, it's a really casual coffee place. It's not far so we can just walk."

"Okay, sure," I said, "What's the name of the place?"

"Nicholas Coffee Company, best coffee in all of Pittsburgh," Alejandro said with a smile as we walked out of the apartment building, with Robinson watching us.

"Oh, I think I've been there," I said softly, but I didn't think, I knew. I've been going to Nicholas Coffee Company every Monday with Jordan, but I didn't think it would be prudent to share that fact with Alejandro.

"Yup, it's fantastic, they have great sandwiches," Alejandro said as he attempted to thread his arm through mine, but I froze instantly and he quickly withdrew his arm.

The rest of the walk was quiet, with only the noise from the street to prevent us from walking in complete silence. And finally, after what seemed ages, we made it to the familiar café I have visited so many times before.

"This is it?" I asked, knowing full well we were here.

"Yeah," Alejandro said as we walked into the café and sat a table, right in the front window where everyone could see us. A few moments later we received our menus and had ordered, Alejandro had ordered what he called a "Monte Carlo," which is a ham sandwich that had been deep fried, and I had ordered a grilled chicken and spinach melt.

"That's an interesting order, not worried about your diet?" I joked.

"Nah," Alejandro said cockily, "I eat whatever I want, I don't believe in all those crazy diets. I figure I eat when I'm hungry and I won't when I'm not."

"Lucky you," I said with a hint of jealousy, "I have to talk to you about something," I add more seriously.

"Okay," Alejandro said his cocky smile still plastered on his face, "Go ahead."

I took a deep breath and furrowed my brow before starting, "I really like you,"

"That's gr-" Alejandro started before I interrupted him.

"No listen, um, I don't see you in a romantic way, though. I like you, as a friend, and I don't see us going anywhere beyond that. It's not your fault, it's just how I feel. I know this sounds really cliché but we can still be friends and partners, right?" I said as honestly as I could, which Alicia said would be the right way to go, biting my lip as I waited to see his reaction.

Alejandro had his head down, his dark hair falling into his eyes, obscuring his expression, but I didn't have to see his expression to know the cocky smile was gone, "Sure," he said quietly, "I understand, I can't make you love me."

"I'm glad you understand," I said as I smiled, "Have you heard about the YouTube channel the Company will be posting?" I asked changing the subject.

"Yeah, they filmed at my apartment a few days ago," Alejandro said his head still down.

"Alicia said it's going to be really fun, but I'm still kind of apprehensive about the whole thing, what do you think?"

"It should be really cool, what's to be scared about?" Alejandro said, finally picking his head up and looking me in the eyes.

"I don't know, I just don't like the idea that everyone can just look up a video and see where I live and what I do,"

"I see where you're going but I think once you get in front of the camera you'll be a natural. Besides, we make a living on people wanting to see us, whether it be on stage or in front of a camera."

"Thanks," I said as our waitress, a curvy redhead named Jane, came and delivered our food.

"Here you go guys," She said in a breathy voice as she gave Alejandro a flirty smile and batted her eyelashes as she tugged on the hem of her already plunging V-neck shirt to expose more of her cleavage, "Tell me if you need anything,"

"We sure will," Alejandro said his eyes obviously not on her face but on her chest. He sure did bounce back fast, I thought to myself as I ate my sandwich. Sadly the conversation died out, the lunch became only more awkward when we tried to strike up another conversation, perhaps it was because I had "broke up with him," perhaps it was because Alejandro didn't take his eyes off our waitress, but whatever it was the lunch was becoming only more and more unbearable.

"I have to go to the bathroom," I said in act of desperation.

"Sure," Alejandro said absently as I got up from our table and snuck off to the bathroom. When I was in the bathroom, I went into a stall and quickly texted Jordan: "Help me! The lunch is a disaster. I'm at Nicholas's."

In almost lightening speed, I got a reply: "Sure thing, wait for my call." I texted back my thanks and I returned to the table.

"How's your sandwich?" I asked in one final attempt to salvage the lunch.

"It's good," Alejandro said, no longer paying attention to me but to our waitress.

"Yeah mine's good, too," I said as my cell phone rings, "I have to take this, you don't mind?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

"Thanks," I say as I answer Jordan's call, "Hi, how are you?" I ask.

"Good, now here's how you're going to get out, your friend just got into a car accident now say 'oh no!'" Jordan instructed, "Sound convincing,"

"Oh no!" I say with mock worry, now catching Alejandro's attention.

"That was good, okay now say, 'is he okay?'"

"Is he okay?"

"Perfect, 'what hospital is he at?'"

"Which hospital is he at?"

"I didn't say 'which,' I said 'what.'" Jordan said slightly irritated, "Anyways say 'I'll wait for you'"

"Okay, I'll wait."

"Stop improvising, whatever. Now say, 'Jordan Staal is the best hockey player in the entire world'" Jordan added jokingly. I fought every impulse to roll my eyes and say 'You wish,' as that would ruin the charade, I simply shut my phone shut.

"I have bad news. My friend just got into a car accident and I have to go see him. You don't mind?" I said my voice fraught with mock worry.

"That's terrible, of course I don't mind," Alejandro said, "Do you need a ride?"

"No, my other friend is going to pick me up here," I answer as I take out a $20 and lay it on the table, knowing that $20 would be more than enough to pay for lunch, "Sorry, about having to cut lunch short and you know…" I add trailing off.

"Don't worry about it," Alejandro said earnestly, "I hope we can put this behind us and just be dance partners and friends," Alejandro added but I couldn't help but feel that he was being insincere.

"Sure, I'd love to," I added and as if on cue, the bells on the door rang out as Jordan entered the café.

"Sveta, I raced here as fast as I could, we have to go," Jordan said sounding both urgent and distraught.

"Yes, yes of course," I said, "Sorry about lunch, Alejandro," I added as Jordan pulled me out of the café.

I eagerly sat in the passenger seat, "You didn't say the last part," Jordan teased.

"I would have but that would have been a lie," I countered.

"Ouch, baby that hurts," Jordan joked as he gripped his chest in mock pain.

"What can I say, I'm man-eater," I joked.

"Nice clothes, man-eater," Jordan said with a smirk as he gave me a once over.

"Alicia helped me get dressed," I said blushing.

"You look nice," Jordan said the smirk was replaced with a reassuring smile, "The date was that bad?"

"It wasn't a date, it was just a lunch," I clarified, "It wasn't that bad but it was… awkward. Particularly after I told him that I don't see him as anything more than a friend."

"Well, I don't blame him, you probably bruised his ego a little," Jordan said as if he was speaking from experience.

"You speak as if you know," I add.

"Well, I kind of do," Jordan said.

I was hoping he would say more but when he didn't I chose not to ask him about it, "Well I don't think I bruised his ego too much because he started flirting with the waitress, soon after."

Jordan's eyes narrowed, "Well then screw him, he's probably a prick anyways. Only pricks bounce back that fast."

"Thanks, I guess," I said, "So where exactly are we going?"

"I was thinking my place," Jordan said scratching the back of his neck, which I noticed was a habit of his.

"Sure that sounds good, I don't think I should return the apartment soon it will look suspicious, since I'm supposed to be at the hospital."

"My place it is," Jordan said with a smile but not before making a sharp U-turn. The car ride to Jordan's place was a stark contrast to last night's ride home, the radio was on, and we chatted and laughed all the way to Jordan's apartment. "Now it isn't much, but I only live here during the season. Also, try and excuse the mess," Jordan said, or warned. I nodded as we walked into Jordan's apartment. After giving me the tour, I found out it was quite spacious with a kitchen, dining room, living room, two bedrooms, but one was completely void of furniture, and two bathrooms.

"It's not that bad, I was expecting worse," I teased considering he was a bachelor living on his own.

"I try," Jordan shrugged as he went to the kitchen to get a drink, "Make yourself comfortable, you can watch TV or something."

"Sure," I said nodding as I sat down on the couch and fiddled with the complicated remote. After surfing the channels, I promptly stopped at a commercial for the Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre. It showed clips of past showcases and us in class.

"Hey, that's you," Jordan said, as a video clip of my solo played with a dreamy voice saying, "Don't miss the new talent at this year's Showcase" and goes on to list the prices of the tickets and dates of the performances. "You look good," Jordan said as he sat down on the couch next to me.

"Thanks," I said softly still in shock, "I didn't know they were filming us." I felt violated, like my privacy was being robbed from me. Everything, the YouTube videos, the commercial, Robinson, felt like it was being used to keep tabs on us.

"Relax," Jordan said, "You looked good in the commercial, don't worry,"

"It's not that, it's just that it feels like an invasion of privacy. The Company is setting up this YouTube channel and will be posting videos about us and then there is Robinson who rarely misses a beat. It feels like nothing is my own anymore," I said distressed by the situation.

"Don't say that, you've always got me," Jordan said with a large grin as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

I smiled, "Thanks, that's really sweet of you to say,"

"It's true," Jordan said as we locked eyes. I could feel my cheeks heat up from the intensity of his stare. He leaned in closer to the point where our lips were mere centimeters apart. It felt as if all the air was stolen from my lungs and time had stopped. Jordan licked his lips, for a split second I thought he was going to kiss me and for a split second, I wanted him to. But he pulled away, taking the remote out of my hands and scrolled through the channels.

After several sitcoms and TV movies later, I had fallen asleep with my head resting on Jordan's shoulder, for how long I'm not sure but when Jordan tried to remove his arm from around my shoulder, the movement broke the fragile spell of my sleep. "Morning Sleeping Beauty," Jordan said.

"I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, "I didn't mean to fall asleep," I pleaded.

"Don't worry," Jordan laughed, "It's alright. By the way, the guys want to go out to a club tonight. You want to come?"

"Umm," I said unsure, I was never interested in the party and club scene back at home.

"It'll be fun, drinking, dancing, partying," Jordan said persuasively.

"Sure, I guess I'll go," I said reluctantly.

"Great, the guys will be ecstatic!" Jordan exclaimed as he quickly started texting on his phone.

"What time is it?" I ask rubbing the last of the sleep out of my eyes.

"Like 6:27, almost 6:30," Jordan said reading the time off his phone, "You hungry?" Jordan asked.

"Just a little, what time are you guys going to the club?"

"What time are we going to the club," Jordan corrected, "Around 10, so we can have dinner at 7 and we can get ready by 9 and then we can go to the club. So we'll be good, time wise at least."

"I don't have any clubbing clothes," I said softly, looking down at what I was wearing.

"What you have on is alright," Jordan said, "If you want, call Vero, I'm sure she'll lend you some clothes."

I nodded as I assessed my outfit, I could probably get away with just exchanging the flats for high heels, which was remedied when I texted Vero my need for black high heels. Suddenly my phone started to ring out the familiar bars of _Swan Lake, it was Alicia._

"Hello?" I said more like a question than a greeting.

"Hi, I know it's a little late but I was just calling to see how the lunch went,"

"Terrible," I sighed, "I mean I guess he took pretty well since he started flirting with our waitress right after."

"He bounced back fast, oh well. Where are you now?"

"I'm at Jordan's place, he picked me up from the café and I'm going to go to a club with him and his teammates tonight. So, uh, if I don't come back then can you bring me some of my dance stuff? I have everything ready in my dance bag, it's by my nightstand in my room,"

"Sure, no problem. Don't do anything I wouldn't do and remember safe sex is happy sex,"

"Alicia!" I exclaimed, my cheeks rapidly turning to a shade of red.

"What? It's the truth. Just be careful. Don't get too wild and try not turn into Paris Hilton, or Anna, in one night," Alicia said more seriously.

"Paris who?" I asked confused.

"Never mind, just don't do anything you'll regret in the morning and easy on the alcohol. I know you're Russian but you have class and first day of rehearsals tomorrow."

"I will, Mom," I said jokingly.

"Good, now don't forget to check in and remember if you aren't going to make it for curfew just find a place to crash and I'll meet you at the Theatre."

"Of course," I said as Jordan pantomimed wildly, which I think meant that we were going to go out to eat soon. "I think I have to go," I said, "Bye."

"Bye, be safe!" Alicia exclaimed before I closed my phone, ending the call.

"You want to go eat, there's a little place across from here," Jordan said as he grabbed his wallet off the counter.

"Sure," I said getting up from my seat on the couch, patting my left pocket, making sure my money was there.

"I hope you don't mind, but we'll just walk, since it's so close." Jordan said as we exited the building.

"Not at all," I said as we strolled to a diner. After a light dinner of turkey burgers for me and steak for Jordan, we were back in his apartment getting ready. Actually, more like Jordan was getting ready and I was sitting on the couch waiting for Vero and Marc so that I can change my shoes.

"Um, Sveta," Jordan said, scratching the back of his neck, as he appeared from his room, bare-chested, wearing only a pair of black slacks and a black belt, and holding a wrinkled light green dress shirt with thin, white vertical stripes.

For a moment, I was mesmerized, I just stared at the perfectly formed, defined muscles of his torso and abdomen, "Yes," I said managing to regain my focus.

"Can you iron my shirt? I'm really terrible at these things," Jordan said before a smirk appeared on his face as he caught me staring, "I know my, abs are really that amazing."

"I'll iron your shirt for you," I said feeling my cheeks heat up at his last statement.

"Drink it up," Jordan teased, "Cause once you iron that shirt, the view's gotta go," I just lowered my head, focusing my eyes on the floor. "I got the ironing board and the iron set up in my room."

I nodded as I focused my eyes on the floor, keeping my head down, hoping that he won't see the scarlet flush on my cheeks. I walked into his room, with an ironing board and iron set up at the foot of his bed. I smoothed the linen covering of the ironing board and set the iron on the lowest setting, how Mamma taught me.

"Here you go," Jordan startled me by whispering in my ear, his breath hot against my neck. My breath was snatched out of my body as I closed my eyes, his body flush against mine. I could feel the ripples of his muscle pressed against my back. Jordan dropped the dress shirt on the ironing board, he was so close I could feel the curve of his cheek as he smirked and spoke, "Tell me when you're done," and with that he left the room.

I didn't notice it till he left, but my heart was racing and my breathing was short. I took a few slow, deep breathes to calm my pounding heart and compose myself before picking up the iron, and ironed the shirt the way Mamma showed me: working from the center out, starting from the collar and eventually moving my way down to the shoulders, then ironing out the wrinkles on the sleeves and cuffs, then pressing the front and back panels crisp and ironing the panels between the buttons last. I hung the shirt on a hanger and turned off the iron. I swiftly exited the room to find Jordan lying on the couch, wearing only his black dress pants and black dress shoes. "I-I'm done," I stutter, chastising myself for being so hypnotized, "I-I hung it in your room," I managed to get out before turning a brick red.

"Sure thing, Sveta," Jordan said getting up from the couch, walking to his room and as he passed me, he rubbed my shoulder, "Thanks Sveta," he said flashing me his signature smile.

"Your welcome."


	14. Begging and Pleading

I know I said I was going to have this up sooner but stuff got in the way. Here's the next chapter. I was going to combine this chapter and the next chapter into one big one, but I split it up because I wanted certain parts to stand-alone. This was a hard chapter to write but I hope you guys like this chapter! Please review! Nothing makes me happier than seeing those review alert emails in my inbox.

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**Begging and Pleading**

After Jordan finished dressing, much to the chagrin of a part of me, albeit a small part, we simply waited for the others to show up, we didn't speak. There was nothing to say really, we just sat there, enjoying each other's company. I turned to look at Jordan, studying his profile, the true blue eyes, which were brightened by the green of his shirt, the defined line of his high cheekbone, a chin dimple punctuating his strong jaw line, Jordan turned to lock eyes with me, "Were you staring at me?" he asked.

"No," I said flustered, focusing my attention on my hands that were twisting nervously in my lap.

"It's alright, I know I'm pretty amazing to look at," Jordan said with a cocky grin, "I have that effect on people."

I was at a loss for words, I didn't want to admit that I was so obviously gawking at him but I couldn't think of a witty reply either. Thankfully I was interrupted by the knocking on the door.

"I'll get it," Jordan said as he got up to answer the door, "Hey! Long time, no see," He greeted sarcastically, "Yeah, Sveta's here, she's over there on the couch.

Sveta!"

"Hi," I greeted them both, as I hugged Vero, wearing in a strapless turquoise dress with gold metallic jacquard finish that skimmed the tops of her knees, then Marc, dressed in dark jeans and a white dress shirt.

"I have your shoes, and I brought some makeup in case you wanted to freshen up," Vero said holding up a bag.

"Thank you so much," I thanked earnestly as exchanged my flats for the black, peep toe high heels but I didn't bother putting on more make up, since it would probably melt off in a club packed full of people.

"No problem, nice outfit," Vero complemented.

"Thanks, my roommate put it together, you look great too,"

"Thanks," Vero said, "You and Jordan?" she asked in a hushed voice, her eyes darting from me to Jordan and back to me.

"Didn't we go through this already?" I asked jokingly.

"Come on, nothing happened? The sexual tension between you two is so thick, you could cut it with a knife."

"Well…" I said trailing off, not sure what to say as I recalled the incident in Jordan's bedroom, "There was the incident in the bedroom," but before I could continue, Marc interjected.

"I think we should get going now," Marc said, "Kris is already there and he's getting antsy. We're taking separate cars, in case one of you guys wants to leave late, or early," Marc finished with a winked.

I blushed at his insinuation as Vero and I got up and walked out of the apartment with Marc and Jordan in tow. It was a late summer and warm, but I couldn't help but still feel bare in my filmy blouse and shorts that skimmed the tops of my thighs. I sat in the passenger seat of Jordan's car as we drove to the nightclub.

"It's called Diesel," Jordan said, "It's got great music and dancing. Plus, there's open bar on the VIP level, so it's pretty amazing."

"Sounds great, but I've never really been out clubbing," I admitted, biting my bottom lip.

"Never?" Jordan asked in disbelief, "You can't be serious?"

"I am," I replied, "We weren't allowed to go out past 9:30 on the weekdays and my weekends were usually spent visiting my relatives."

"That's ridiculous," Jordan said, "You know what that means, we gotta show you a good first time."

"Thanks," I replied softly.

"No problem, tonight we're going to have you forget all your stresses and just have fun," Jordan said with a genuine grin as he parked his car in the parking lot of the nightclub. As I got out of the car, I could feel the pounding bass emanating from the packed club. Jordan led me past the long queue winding around the building, and entered through the velvet rope. I had never noticed it before but, Jordan must have been wildly popular because as we passed the line, a group of girls, all wearing a variation of the same outfit: short dress, high heels, and a face full of make up, screamed his name. I could have sworn that as they spotted me, they gave me a venomous look that if looks could kill, I'd be dead on the spot. Jordan merely acknowledged them by coolly smiling and giving them thumbs up, which elicited more screaming and giggling from the pack of girls. "Don't mind them, they're just puck bunnies," Jordan whispered in my ear as we entered the club, which was filled with loud music and people.

"Puck bunnies?" I asked, never hearing the term before.

"I'll explain it to you later," Jordan said enigmatically as he led me to the upstairs, apparently where the VIP lounge was located, his hand on the small of my back as if to reassure me that he was still with me. The music was quieter, but not by much, and there was far less people than there was downstairs but still, the dance floor was filled with people dancing and swaying to the syncopated beats.

"Hey!" Kris exclaimed as he saw us from the booth, "Took you guys long enough. I probably looked pathetic sitting in this booth on my own."

I slid into the booth sitting next to Jordan, "You can't look pathetic, Kris. You're freaking Kris Letang," Jordan said.

"That's true," Kris said with a shrug of his shoulders, "Where's Marc and Vero? Didn't you guys come here together?"

It didn't occur to me that they weren't this until now, "They did, but I guess we lost 'em in the sea of people," Jordan replied nonchalant.

"They know where we are," Kris said coolly.

"Now, Sveta here has never been to a club in her life," Jordan said, "So we gotta show her a great time."

Kris's eyes widened, "What? No way, never?"

"Yes, I have never been in a club. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Well, don't take it personal but it's kind of hard to believe that any person over the age of 18 has never been in a club," Kris explained.

"Believe it," I teased as I saw Max and Sidney, gesturing for them to come over. Max wore a black dress shirt and dark jeans, with his hair artfully styled with gel, while Sidney was wearing a casual T-shirt and jeans topped off with a beanie.

"Svetlana, you have to dance with me by the end of tonight," Max said as he slid into the booth, next to me, "Hope you don't mind me sitting next to you but I don't want to be sitting next to Sidney while he's wearing that," Max teased.

"Hey!" Sidney defended, "It's okay to be casual."

"Sure thing," Max said rolling his eyes. Soon after, Max and Vero suddenly appeared, cheeks flushed, as they took a seat in our ever growing booth.

"Okay, I'm going to all order some shots," Jordan said as he ventured to the bar, "I'll get two extra for when Geno and McGee show up." My heart quickened as I heard his name, I needed to talk to him. I needed to tell him and confess everything to him. I needed to convince him to leave Oksana for me. Jordan eventually came back setting a shot glass of an unknown liquid in front of all of us, "Okay, we have to wait till Geno comes, then we can drink," Jordan said, causing everyone to groan.

"Come on, this is team building," Sidney argued.

"Whatever," Max groaned, "He better come soon, I'm not going to waste an hour waiting for Geno and McGee."

"If it helps, he just texted me that they're almost here," Vero offered sheepishly.

"Um, should I ask what this is?" I asked Jordan, staring at the shot glass.

"No," Jordan said with a smirk, "But you'll feel it on the way down."

"Should I be scared?"

"Nah, if you're with us, you shouldn't. We do a pretty good job of keeping everyone safe from creepers," Jordan reassured.

"Okay," I said nodding, as I saw Geno, dressed in a plaid, grey and black shirt, and Oksana, wearing a purple dress that looked more like a blouse than a dress.

"Thank god," I heard Kris say as they sat down, "What took you guys so long?"

"You don't want to know," Oksana purred.

"Okay, you know what, let's just drink and get the night started," Kris said, making a gagging sound.

"To a night that we'll never forget, or regret," Jordan said as we all raised our shot glasses.

"Cheers!" We chorused as we all drank. The liquid burned on the way down, making me wince.

"What was that?" I ask my mouth puckered from the taste.

"Tequila," Max said unaffected, "You're such a light weight."

"I've drank vodka before," I defended.

"Well, you're in the big leagues now," Jordan teased, "I'm going to get some more drinks, I think I'll get you something lighter." Jordan returned with a beer anda glass of a red liquid. "This is for you," placing the glass in front of me.

"What is it?" I say observing the ruby colored elixir with an orange slice floating in it.

"A variation on a negroni, a negroski," which earned a chuckle from Max as he jokingly hit Jordan's arm, "Its vodka, vermouth and campari. Go ahead, it's good," Jordan said with his signature smirk.

"Okay," I said nodding apprehensively. I took a sip of the deep red potion which was surprisingly sweet with an oddly bitter aftertaste.

"Good?" Jordan asked.

"It's okay," I said taking a few more sips.

"I'm impressed," Max said, "That's a pretty strong drink, you don't feel it yet?"

"No," I said shaking my head, which earned me a nod of approval from Max, "At least not yet."

"You're not such a light weight after all," Max said impressed.

After I drank the rest of my cocktail, Jordan quickly ordered me more. After I don't know how many drinks, "I'm going to get some more," I said with the liquid confidence surging through my veins. I made my way to the bar alone, despite Jordan's protests, "A negroski, please," I said to the bartender.

"That's a pretty strong drink," said a man with greasy hair, a white shirt that was unbuttoned to practically his naval and tight-fitting designer jeans.

"I guess it is," I replied meekly, all the courage that had been coursing through my bloodstream dissipated.

"Now, I would like to know what a girl, as pretty as you, is doing all alone at the bar," he asked inching closer to me.

"I guess I can take care of myself," I said mustering up all the confidence I could.

"Really now?" he asked raising an eyebrow moving even closer to me, I could smell the alcohol on his breath and his arm was touching mine.

"I-I think I should go," I said moving away from the bar, away from him, but before I could he grabbed my wrist. "You're hurting me," I said as he tightened his grip around my wrist.

He pulled me closer to him, he was only a few inches taller than me but he seemed so domineering now, "Look, you're not going anywhere, except home with me," he said in a menacing voice.

"No," I whimpered as I could feel my knees buckling in fear as a sickening grin crept onto his face.

"I think the lady said 'no,'" I heard Jordan say in a low voice. I turned to see that Jordan, Sidney, and Max were standing there staring him down.

"Look this doesn't concern you guys," he said, tightening the grip on my wrist.

"The hell it doesn't!" Jordan said through gritted teeth, and something was in his eyes, something that I've never seen before.

"She's a friend, so yeah I think it does concern us," Max said mockingly.

"We don't want trouble," Sidney reasoned, "But if you don't let our friend go, things are going to get ugly."

"Geez," the man said promptly dropping my bruised wrist, "Take her, she probably won't even be a good lay."

"You asked for it," Jordan spat as he punched the man in the face, square on the jaw, "Fucking asshole. Let's go Sveta, sorry about that but I told you we're pretty protective and that guy was being a dick."

I only nodded as he started to walk me to the booth. I was rattled by the whole experience. The event was incredibly sobering, I stayed quiet as I sat down next to a concerned Jordan who had his arm wrapped protectively around me.

"It matches your eyes," A slightly drunk Kris told me.

"What?" I asked slightly confused, I wasn't sure if it was the drinks or the loud music or what had just transpired but my head was swimming.

"My drink," Kris slurred slightly, gesturing to his shot glass that was filled with a golden liquid, probably rum or Jack Daniels judging by the semi-filled bottle next to him.

"Thank you," I said puzzled.

"You know Jordan's being all protective of you because he lov-" Kris continued to slur, much to Jordan's horror, before being interrupted by Max.

"Now you have to dance with me," Max said grabbing my hand, leading me to the dance floor, "I'll take care of her," Max said in reaction to the worried look on Jordan's face, "You gotta forget about what happened, just dance it all away," Max said as we enter the fray of people. He pulled me close and placed his hands on my hips, swaying them to the beat of the music. I nodded and let the music take over, I just danced everything away, letting my body move to the electronic rhythm.

"_Just dance, gonna be okay, dance, just dance," _the singer sang as the song ended and the song switched to a slower tempo song, a ballad. Max led me off the dance floor and back to our booth with only Evgeni and Oksana still there. "You're a good dancer," Max said.

"Well, what can I say, I'm a professional," I teased, "You're not too bad yourself."

"I'm gonna get myself a drink, you wanna come?" Max asked.

"No, I think I want to rest for a little bit," I replied sitting down next to Evgeni.

"You know what, I'll come with you, I want to get a drink, too," Oksana said getting up from the table, much to Max's chagrin. This was my chance, I needed to talk to Evgeni.

"It's been a while," I said in Russian, letting the familiar language and sounds roll off my tongue.

"Yes, yes it has," Evgeni replied back in Russian, "Why have you come, Lana?" he asked solemnly still in Russian.

"For you," I replied honestly, "For you, my love." The tears welling in my eyes as I could feel my worst nightmare unfolding before my eyes.

"I thought you understood," Evgeni said furrowing his brow, "Didn't you understand?"

"What is there to understand? I came to find you, you stopped writing me so I came to find you," I pleaded.

"I stopped writing. I stopped writing because I thought you understood that I found someone else," Evgeni said his brown eyes full of sadness.

"Wh-what?" I said my voice cracking, "How can you find someone else? How can you forget everything we ever had?"

"We were children, Lana," Evgeni said sharply.

"I love you, just please, please love me," I must have sounded pathetic begging for him to love me like he did so long ago.

"I'm sorry," was all Evgeni said, "I just don't feel the same way,"

"What we felt? You can't just write that off, you can't possible be that cold-hearted. How can you forget all the memories that we shared? We were supposed to grow old together," I pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Lana, I just- I just don't love you any more. It's not your fault, it's just how I feel. We can still be friends, right?" _It's not your fault, it's just how I feel_ that's what I said to Alejandro, when I told him I didn't intend for us to be anything more than friends, how the tables have turned.

"How can you say that? How can you pretend like there was nothing between us?" I said as a single tear escaped and traced its way down my cheek.

"I'm not pretending, Lana," Evgeni said staring at the table.

"You were everything. I gave everything for you. I could have gone to London or Paris, you know how much I loved London. But I threw it all away, just to see you because I knew deep in my heart you loved me. I've cried so many tears for you,"

"I'm sorry for all the tears I made you cry, but this really is goodbye, Lana. I don't know what else to say, I just don't love you any more. I really am sorry," Evgeni finished in Russian, still looking down at the table, not even able to look me in the eyes.


	15. Falling

I have an author's note at the end, so please read that and review. I'm not exaggerating when I say that you reviewing will affect the story.

* * *

**Falling**

"I'm sorry for all the tears I made you cry, but this really is goodbye, Lana. I just don't love you no more. I really am sorry," Evgeni finished in Russian, looking down at the table, not even able to look me in the eyes.

I was angry, embarrassed, hurt, but most of all heartbroken. All I wanted to do was get as far away from him as possible. I exited out of the booth as fast as I could with my ankles wobbling in the high heels. I wiped my tears away, but before I could, Jordan pulled me into his arms.

"What happened back there?" Jordan said as he held me close to him.

I couldn't say anything, my throat was tight with tears as I cried into Jordan's shirt.

"You wanna get out of here?" Jordan asked, rubbing soothing circles on my back.

I nodded in reply, "Yeah, let's go." We walked out of the club and into his car.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"I don't think I want to," I said as I slipped off the heels, and drew my knees to my chest.

"I won't press it," Jordan said as rubbed my shoulder reassuringly. I checked the clock, it read 1:57 AM.

"Is it really almost 2?" I asked concerned.

"Yeah, I guess it is," Jordan said, "Time really does fly."

"I can't go home!" I exclaimed sounding like a drunken fool, matching how I was feeling at the moment.

"What?" Jordan asked, confusion etched into his face.

"I can't go back to the apartment, I can't let them catch me coming in past curfew." I clarified, "I have to stay somewhere else."

"You can stay with me," Jordan suggested, scratching the back of his neck.

"I could do that," I said, that was the last thing that was said throughout the entire car ride back to Jordan's apartment.

"I don't think I have any clothes that'll fit you, but I can find some," Jordan said as he unlocked the door to his apartment and we walked in.

"Could I take a shower?" I asked meekly, wanting to wash away all remnants of club off of me.

"Sure, I'll set out some clothes for you,"

"Thank you," I said as I made my way to Jordan's bedroom, where the shower was. I eagerly stripped off my clothes and showered, I wanted- no, needed to get rid of all the memories of the club. When I got out, there was a pair of boxers and an oversized Pittsburgh Penguins shirt neatly folded and set on the bathroom counter. I changed into the clothes, which were comfortably amorphous and redolent of Jordan's cologne. When I exited the bathroom with a neatly folded pile of the clothes I had worn in my hands, Jordan was wearing only a pair of sweatpants and no shirt.

"You can sleep here, I'll take the couch, since the guest room doesn't have anything."

"N-no, It's okay, I'll take the couch. This is your place after all."

"Nonsense, you're the guest it's only the right thing to do."

"Bu-"

"You can argue all you want but I'm still gonna sleep on the couch and you're still gonna sleep on the bed," Jordan said as he slipped a ribbed tank top on.

"Okay," I said defeated.

"Sveta, I have to tell you something," Jordan said seriously, looking me right in the eyes as if trying to peer into my soul.

"What is it?"

I hadn't noticed it, Jordan was so quick, but he was right in front of me, so close that his body was flush with mine, only my back pressed against the bedpost to support me. Jordan let out a ragged sigh before admitting, "I can't get my mind off of you, I have to consciously force myself to stop thinking about you. I've never felt like this before, it hasn't felt this real before. I think I'm falling in love with you,"

"Wh-what?"

"I know- I know you just want to be friends and it's probably weird for you to hear it but, I just needed to say it, I needed for you to hear it. "

"Your friendship-"

"Don't, just don't say that," Jordan interrupted anticipating what I was saying next.

"Means so much to me and I-" I continued but before I could finish, Jordan's lips crashed against mine. My eyes fluttered shut as Jordan brushed his hands against the sides of my face, my neck, finally resting his hands on the small of my back, pulling my closer to him. I felt breathless, boneless. It would probably be cliché to say that there was a spark, but it was true, as we kissed, there were fireworks. Suddenly what Vero said came rushing to the forefront, 'you guys are like made for each other.' _We're made for each other_. It was like an epiphany, _we are made for each other_. I wrapped my arms around his neck, playing with his blonde hair as I deepened the kiss.

Jordan pulled away, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

I felt dizzy and confused about everything, about Evgeni. Evgeni was the source of all my pain, but he was the source of the only love I'd ever felt. I hated him but I loved him. I hated him for showing me what love was, and I hated him for taking it all away. I hated him for making me live for him, and himself only. I hated him for promising that he would rescue me if I were ever falling, I hated that he wasn't rescuing me now. But I loved him. I loved for showing me what love was. I loved for making me live for him. I loved him for promising me that he would rescue me when I was falling.

"Me too," I admitted, forgetting about Evgeni. Forgetting about the past and the wounds, focusing only on the now and the man in front of me. Jordan leaned in for another kiss, which I couldn't help but oblige as Jordan's hand that rested on the small of my back, drew me closer to him.

* * *

The end. Maybe. I'm not sure if I want to end it here or keep writing the story. I think this would be a good place to end it but if you guys want, then I'll keep writing. I have an idea of where I want to take it. So tell me your thoughts on this chapter and whether or not I should keep going with the story or not!


	16. If Only

After reading all of the comments that you guys posted, I was so happy that you liked this story and I decided to continue it. I'm a little muddled on my vision so if you guys don't like it, sorry! I do not really like the beginning of this chapter, but I really like the end. I tried to choose dances that had videos attached to them since I find it really hard to describe choreography but I could not find anything close to the idea I had for Alicia's number. I'll have the links posted in my profile, as well as a link to where you can find character descriptions.

* * *

**If Only**

"I need time," I admitted, "I just need time." My head was resting on Jordan's chest. I could hear- I could feel the steady beat of his heart. His arm was wrapped around me, holding me close, as his fingers were intertwined with my hair.

"What?" He didn't sound impatient or angry or upset like I had imagined.

"I need time to figure everything out. I'm not saying no, but I'm not saying yes either. I need to sort everything out, things are going to become really hectic. I have rehearsals and performance season is coming up and your hockey season is coming up too. You'll be traveling for away games and I might have to tour with the Company. There's a lot of stuff going on and I just want us to last," I said as honestly as I possibly could, without mentioning Evgeni. Almost ironically, not mentioning him made me think of him more.

"I can wait," Jordan said, "Its just how long?"

"I- I don't know, I wish I could I say."

"I can't wait forever," Jordan caressed my cheek.

"I hope it doesn't take forever."

"Me too," He drew the blanket over my shoulders, "Sleep, Sveta, sleep."

I sleepily nodded as I drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

I couldn't help but stare at her as she slept. She looked so serene, so innocent. I could hear the crickets, if there were any in the city, I could hear her soft breathing. I could feel her warm breath on my chest, I could feel her fragile body pressed against mine. Of course, there have been others, countless others, who have slept in the same position as Sveta did now. But this was different. I couldn't breathe, like the simple rising and falling of my chest would destroy the moment. I couldn't help but stare at her. Her silky, strawberry-scented, sable hair that wound it's way down her back, the angelic purity of her face. It made my heart ache just to think about her crying at the club. What's more was that it made me angry to think anyone would make her cry. "I don't know what happened at the club, but I'm not going to let anything hurt you, ever. I promise," I whispered as I kissed her forehead.

* * *

I woke up to the sound of shuffling feet and the smell of cooking pancakes. As I lazily sat up, a thought ran through my mind. _I'm not in my own bed_. Panic struck me as blurry images of last night flashed into my mind. Negroskis, guys being dicks, dancing with Max, talking with Evgeni, talking with Jordan. The last two made my head pound, or maybe it was the negroskis. I ran a hand through my hair, in an effort to untangle it, as I reluctantly swung my legs out from under the warm blanket onto the cold floor. Still trying to rub the sleep out of my eyes, I walked into the kitchen.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty. Being the gracious host that I am, I made you breakfast. What time do you have to be at the Theatre?" Jordan said as he set a plate of pancakes on the table.

"Good morning," I couldn't help but smile at how sweet Jordan was being, "I have to be at the Theatre by 10:30."

"Well, it's 9:00, and I'm guessing it takes about 20 minutes to get to the Theatre, so eat up and get dressed, I'll drop you off on my way to practice."

"Okay," I said as I sat down at the table and started to eat. The pancakes were fluffy and delicious, "This is really good, Jordan."

"I'm not just a pretty face," Jordan said as he too sat down at the table, across from me, and ate breakfast, "About last night… Do you remember it?"

"I didn't drink that much," I deadpanned, "So yeah, I do," I added softly.

Jordan scratched the back of his neck as he sighed, "I shouldn't have said it, I- I was-"

I reassuringly rubbed his forearm, "Don't say that, don't regret what you said, don't regret what you did, because- because I don't."

"You don't?" Jordan was both in shock and disbelief.

"No, I don't, at least I don't think so," I said with a slight smile, "I just need-"

"Time, I know, and I'm willing to wait," Jordan reassured, "Get dressed, and I'll wash the dishes. Then, we can head out."

"Sure thing," I handed Jordan my plate, for a split second our hands touched but I quickly pulled my hand away like when you put your hand over a fire, because for a split second I swore I could feel a jolt of electricity.

I grudgingly changed into the clothes I wore yesterday, albeit slightly wrinkled. I took a deep breath and braced myself for the Walk of Shame. I hated the looks I received from Jordan's neighbors when they saw I was wearing the same clothes from last night and even more I hated how unsurprised some of them were as Jordan waved and gave them a thumbs up as we walked to his car. I texted Alicia that I was on my way, and she replied that she would wait for me in the Lobby.

The car ride was entirely too short, the trip was filled with laughter and singing along to the songs playing on the radio. "I guess this is your stop," Jordan said as he pulled over in front of the Theatre.

"Yeah, I guess it is."

Jordan hugged me goodbye, the embrace lingered as I, at least wanted to, think that both of us didn't want to leave. I felt so safe, so warm, in Jordan's arms like nothing could hurt me. "I'll walk you to the door," Jordan stated less like a suggestion and more like demand.

"I'd like that," I smiled.

As he walked me to the grand front entrance of the Theatre, Jordan reasoned, "I don't think I can make coffee today. I have a long practice today since the start of the season is in a few weeks."

"It's okay," I murmured as I hugged him, "I'll miss you when you go to Sweden."

"At least we still have a few weeks more."

I reluctantly broke the embrace as, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alejandro, but I didn't think he saw me. "At least," I sighed. "Well I think I have to go in, now."

"I guess you do. I have to get to practice." Jordan started to walk back to his car.

I took a deep breath before entering the Theatre, where Alicia was sitting on a bench looking bored with my black duffel bag in her lap. "Sorry to keep you waiting," I apologized as I walked over to Alicia.

"Oh! Hi! Don't worry I haven't been waiting that long, you can go change in the bathroom," Alicia handed me my dance bag, pointing me in the direction of a bathroom. I quickly changed into my classic, scoop front black leotard with a multi-strapped criss-crossed back and pink tights.

"Okay, let's go," I said as I exited the bathroom, my street clothes safely folded and tucked away in my dance bag.

"Alrighty, then," Alicia's cheer and happiness evident. As we walked, I noted her wearing a coral, mock turtleneck leotard with the zipper front, believe it or not but it was one of her more conservative leotards, "So how was the club?" Alicia inquired, elbowing me in the ribs.

"Oh it was fun, but there was this guy who was being a jerk but the guys fixed that easily," I tried to be as vague and discreet as possible.

"Oh that's good. Did you remember my advice? No glove, no love?" Alicia teased.

"Jordan and I did not have sex," I felt a faint blush creeping onto my cheeks, "I just slept over because by the time we left the club it was almost 2."

"So you guys slept in different beds?" Alicia assumed.

"No, same bed," I clarified.

"Really? Same bed? And nothing happened? He didn't try anything? From what I heard, Jordan Staal is a real lady's man, a player," The way she said it, honestly scared me. Everyone has told me that Jordan had a way with girls, Jordan's a lady's man, Jordan's a player, that he wouldn't be good for me, but I didn't- I couldn't believe a word they said.

"Nothing, we just talked and slept," I tried to fight the blush that was undoubtedly deepening to crimson.

"That blush tells me that wasn't all you guys did," Alicia quipped as she jokingly poked my ribs.

"You can't tell anyone okay? Not even Anna or Robbie and no saying this on YouTube either."

"Okay, I get it sworn to secrecy, don't worry I can keep a secret, what happened?" Alicia asked eagerly.

"We kissed," I admitted my cheeks burning.

"That's it," Alicia said flatly, "I thought it'd racier than that,"

"Sorry to disappoint," I retorted

"It's not that," Alicia said apologetically, "It's just the way you swore me to secrecy, I thought it'd be more than just you guys making out. But no worries, I won't tell a soul."

"It's okay," I said unsure why I was so defensive. A friend of mine once said, you're only defensive if you're hiding something but what was I hiding? "Are the castings up?" I asked, changing the subject.

"The castings!" Alicia exclaimed, "They are up! Or at least they should be," Alicia suddenly grabbed my hand pulled me down the hallway to a wall with a large cork board with the word "Schedules" written on the top. There were papers with all of the dancers' names on it, with what I assumed our schedules were for that day. Then a paper on an empty the side of the corkboard read 'Castings for Showcase,' naturally there was a crowd of people surrounding the slip of paper. It was almost unbelievable to think such a tiny slip of paper could draw such a crowd. "Okay, so this is where all the schedules are for the day, now that performance season is right around the corner, you should check this everyday. If you can't make it, you can call this number and a tape will play saying the schedules. Now let's see which roles we got," Alicia led me into the dissipating clump of people.

I quickly skimmed through the sheet, almost missing my name. Towards the bottom, it read: "Pas de deux - Svetlana Khitrova & Alejandro Diaz Choreographed by: Charles Murphy." I wasn't sure how to feel about being given a pas de deux with Alejandro.

"I got it!" Alicia exclaimed, "I got the lead in the Moulin Rouge! Group number and you got a role in the pas de deux with Alex."

"Hey guys," I heard Anna say from behind us, "What role did I get?" she must have just arrived.

I quickly skimmed through the list and saw her name in under corps for one of the group numbers, but also her name under the understudy for the lead.

"Oh," was all she said, and from that I could tell she was disappointed. I knew from her voice that her face would be fraught with disappointment and anger.

"Anna," Alicia comforted, "At least you're the understudy, that means there's a chance."

"I guess," Anna said, her voice quaking, "Let's go to class, we need to warm-up," Anna added, as she held her head high, not caring who saw the tears welling up in her eyes. We silently walked to class, as I stole looks at Anna who remained stone faced, save for the tears that threatened to betray her expression. Before we entered the studio, "Is it bad that I'm wishing Martha's knee will give out again," Anna said letting the tears escape and stream down her face.

"Oh, honey," Alicia said as she hugged Anna, "Svetlana," Alicia gestured for me to enter the hug as well.

I nodded, as I hugged Anna, "Not all," I added.

"Then why do I feel so terrible," Anna said.

"Because you're friends with Martha but you still want her role,"

Anna nodded ruefully, "Let's get inside," Anna said as she wiped the tears from her red-rimmed eyes. Alicia and I just nodded as we entered the studio and instead of meeting up with the others, the three of us just stretched in a corner on our own.

* * *

"So you and Sveta?" Max said wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Jordan who had just come off the ice, "Saw you two leave the club together,"

"Oh?" Evgeni asked, the comment piquing his interest.

"Yeah, and?" Jordan wanted to believe he wasn't one to kiss and tell, but the boys knew that Jordan was the first one to say where he was the night before and the who he woke up next to.

"You two did the nasty, right? I mean, you kept giving her those negroskis like they were going out of style," Max inquired.

"We did not have sex," Jordan's eyes narrowed as he hissed the words.

"Told you," Tyler stated, "Told you you'd get friend zoned."

"I am not in the friend zone," Jordan said tersely, "I told her how I felt, and she said she needed time."

"Is this the first time you brought a girl to your apartment and didn't hook up with her?" Kris asked, Jordan opened his mouth to say something but instead stayed quiet, "I'll take that as a yes."

"Sveta's a sweet girl and I don't think she deserves to be played," Sidney interjected.

"What are you trying to say?" Jordan defended, his jaw tense.

"I'm just saying, you got a history and it's kinda hard to ignore. You know what they say, a tiger doesn't change its stripes," Sidney tried to reason, in a way that didn't offend the already irritated Jordan.

"I'm not playing her," Jordan said through gritted teeth, his hands balled into fists.

* * *

Class and lunch passed by quickly and I couldn't help but feel closer to Anna than ever before. During lunch and class, we joked and chatted casually, and Anna seemed more like the effervescent, talkative girl I first met. But at lunch, I still couldn't help but notice Anna's behavior towards food. She would cut up her food into tiny pieces and eat each one individually. She would chew each piece thoroughly and drink sips of her zero-calorie Fresca in between.

The three of us chatted as we all walked to our respective studios. "How was the club last night?" Anna asked me.

"It was fun," I said, not wanting to reveal too much.

"Whose place did you stay at?"

"Jordan's."

"Anything happen?" Anna arched an eyebrow. Her curiosity piqued by the mention of Jordan's name.

"No, not really."

"Really?" Anna said in disbelief, "Really?" she mouthed to Alicia.

"Well, not technically," Alicia said.

"Alicia!" I exclaimed, "I thought I swore you to secrecy,"

"Hey, don't blame me! Anna's like a conversation wizard," Alicia defended.

"That's right, I am," Anna joked cockily, "Anyways, so what did happen?"

"We kissed," I said looking down at the floor, blushing.

"Wait Jordan, as in Jordan Staal?" Anna asked, I nodded in response, "I've heard so many things about him, like he's a complete player,"

"How many girls have you actually seen him with?" I said not wanting to believe it.

"A few," Anna said with a nervous smile, "Look, guys like him don't change, and everyone knows that he'll hook up with anyone who has a pulse."

I only nodded in response as we continued to walk, I had practice in the Balanchine studio which was on the top floor, while Alicia and Anna had theirs on the ground level. The whole walk to the studio, I spent trying to convince myself what Anna had said was nothing but a rumor, but deep down I knew there had to be a kernel of truth. When I entered the Balanchine studio, Mr. Murphy and Alejandro were already there talking, casually leaning against the ballet barre. "Hi," I said shyly as dropped my dance bag onto the floor and slipped off my sweatpants and exchanged my flats for pointe shoes.

"Hey, go ahead and get warmed up and then we'll start," Mr. Murphy said as he plugged his iPod into the dock.

I nodded as I stretched and warmed up at the barre. I took in the unfamiliar studio, it was one of the smaller studios but one of the walls was entirely made of mirrors and the wall opposite was a floor to ceiling window showing sweeping views of the Pittsburgh cultural district. The ceilings were vaulted and high, with a sun roof, letting sunlight pour in. After I warmed up thoroughly, I joined Alejandro who was now standing in the center of the studio.

"Hi," I greeted.

"Hey," Alejandro said flashing his gleaming white smile, "Long time no see," he joked.

"Do you have any idea what we're going to do?" I asked.

"Nope, but if Charlie's choreographing it'll be great,"

"Okay, guys," Mr. Murphy said clapping his hands together, "The story for this piece is the relationship between a man and his mistress. And Svetlana, you want to leave him but you can't because he's everything you've ever wanted."

"So, it's kind of like I want to leave him but I he has such a hold on me that I can't bring myself to leave him, even though I know it's wrong," I said trying to grasp the concept and form a character.

"Exactly," Mr. Murphy said, "I want to explore the more contemporary side of ballet. The more lyrical side, and we'll incorporate the ballet side of it with the intricate partnering and by adding twists to classical moves,"

"Sweet," Alejandro said, but I was not as enthusiastic.

I was never trained in the contemporary style and had always danced classical pieces.

"Are you worried?" Alejandro teased, after seeing my worried exprssion.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Yeah just a little," Alejandro said sarcastically.

"I've always been a classical ballerina, I've never even studied contemporary at the Academy."

"It is different, but I'll help you, so don't worry," Alejandro reassured.

"Okay, so I'm gonna play the song and I want you guys to get a feel for it," Mr. Murphy said as he pressed play on his remote for the dock.

"_Do you know__  
__It doesn't change__  
__The way I feel 'bout you, at the end of the day?__  
__'Cause I know__  
__That all I want is what you got__  
__All I want is what you got_

_____________Tell you that I wanna go__  
__But I wanna stay__  
__I tell you that I wanna go__  
__But I wanna stay__  
__I tell you that I wanna go__  
__But I wanna stay__  
__I wanna stay__  
__I wanna stay__  
__I wanna stay_

_______________________________But I know I'm gonna lose myself this way._

_________________________________I wanna stay__  
__I wanna stay__  
__I wanna stay_

_______________________________________But I know I'm gonna lose myself this way._

_________________________________________Do you know__  
__It doesn't change__  
__The way I feel 'bout you, at the end of the day?" _she sang.

"I like it," Still slowly processing the simple chords and the poetry of the poignant lyrics.

"Me too," Alejandro agreed.

"Good, we'll start getting the steps down today and hopefully we can finish learning the choreography by the end of the week and we can polish and make it perfect by dress rehearsals. We have to hurry because schedule's tight. Plus, a photographer and journalist for the local magazine are coming tomorrow to do a piece on the Company and promote the Showcase. Also we got those camera guys coming to get some footage for the YouTube channel and they want to interview you two."

"Alright, let's get to work," Alejandro clapped his hands together, mocking Mr. Murphy.

"Hey, remember we do have an understudy for you," Mr. Murphy joked, "Okay so we're going to start with you, Svetlana sitting here, and Alex you're behind her, a little bit further, like yeah, about 6 feet."

I hesitantly sat in position as I saw Alejandro flash me a thumbs up in the mirror, making me smile.

* * *

The rehearsal went well, with a few awkward moments here and there, particularly some of the lifts and partner work. We made great progress about 1/3 of the way through the number, though we did have to stay later. But we were ahead of schedule according to Mr. Murphy, who insisted I call him Charlie.

As I slipped on my sweatpants and traded my pointe shoes for flats, "See yah, Svetlana," Mr. Mur- Charlie called.

"Bye, Charlie," I replied as I finished packing up, "Thank you," I added as Charlie held the studio door open for me. Alejandro had left earlier because he had to get ready for a 'hot date.'

I was greeted by the eager faces of Alicia and Anna, "Wh-What's the story?" They both blurted out at once.

"Umm, it's about what happens when a mistress doesn't have the strength to leave," I replied, "What about you guys?"

"Mine's the preview for the new ballet, _Moulin Rouge!_ It's like a love triangle. I play the top can-can dancer for the Moulin Rouge. So it's like the patron and I are in love but the owner is like obsessed with me and is trying to tear us apart. It's so good. It's this huge number with loads of can-can dancers and patrons." Alicia glowed.

"I'm in the preview for the modern retelling of Cinderella, it's called the _Glass Shoe_. It's not so much a large group number with a large corps. There's only about 4 of us on stage, but it's centered around the Cinderella and the Prince. I play one of the evil stepsisters," Anna said bitterly, she was obviously still bitter about dancing a small part.

To be fair, I would be too.

"It seems like the Company is really trying to move forward," Alicia observed, "I mean we used to only do those Balanchine ballets, they were great but these new lyrical, contemporary ballets are more accessible, more relatable."

"I don't know, I've always loved the classics, and I don't think anything can beat the tradition and richness of Classical ballet," I defended.

"True, true," Alicia conceded.

Dinner was a simple salad and soup and after that, the three of us went our separate ways. Alicia and Anna went out to a club and they did invite me, but I politely declined, having my fill of clubs for now. I was sitting in my room bored, when my phone started to vibrate. It was Jordan calling.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hi, it's Jordan."

"Hi," I said unsure of why Jordan was calling.

"I just wanted to talk," Jordan explained, as if he read my mind, "I just wanted to hear your voice."

"That's really sweet of you to say Jordan,"

"It's the truth, so whatcha doing?"

"Nothing really, just laying down, resting, being bored."

"Let's play 20 questions," Jordan suggested jokingly.

"We have to find a new game," I joked.

"Why fix what isn't broken," Jordan simply said.

"I guess let's play, you go first," I replied confused about his motives.

"How was your day?"

"It was okay, I mean I think I'm closer to Anna now, she's really opening up to me. And we found out our roles for the Showcase. I'm in a pas de deux with Alejandro and, uh, it's definitely out of my comfort zone."

"That can be a good thing,"

"I guess we won't find out till the end," I mused.

"I guess we won't. Your turn."

"How was your long practice?"

"Grueling, suicides and drills galore, but it'll all pay off in the end."

"Sounds terrible," I said with a shudder.

"It was, I was sitting in the ice whirlpool and the hot whirlpool for a while, but I'm still pretty sore,"

"Ice whirlpools," I grimaced at the thought, "I've had my fair share of those. Hated them, but they were the best thing for keeping my legs fresh,"

"Amen to that."

"It's your turn," I chuckled.

"Have you had any major injuries?" Jordan asked.

"Oh boy, where to begin?" I joked, _my heart, _I thought silently to myself, "Let's see, I've had a few minor ankle sprains, a mild calf strain, a completely broken left fibula, a fractured left tibia, and a surgically repaired left medial meniscus."

"Wow," Jordan said, almost impressed, "I don't think I've even had that many injuries. How can you still walk?"

"The physiotherapist at the Theatre is really helpful with preventing and treating my injuries and Pilates helps too. I'm kind of lucky, I know a lot of girls with worse. Snapping hip, tendonitis, herniated discs, stress fractures, shin splints, ligament tears, dislocations, the list goes on. Why do you ask? That's my question by the way,"

"Well, we are on the topic of sports medicine and I'm genuinely curious," Jordan said I could tell that he shrugged his shoulders, by just the tone of his voice, "I noticed that you tend to favor your left side, when you walk sometimes."

"Oh," I said my mouth forming a large 'o.' "It's kind of a habit, I guess, but I've been relatively pain-free for a while now."

"Relatively? Relative to what? That is my question,"

_To the gaping pain in my chest, _"To how it was before, to how it was when I broke it," I admitted.

"How did it happen?" Jordan asked curiously.

"I was 17 and I had just started my tenure with the Bolshoi. One day, I was late to class and I hadn't warmed up properly. I was attempting a new leap combination, which I wasn't completely comfortable with. It was a jeté entrelacé connected to a grand jeté. I had done both of those skills before but I couldn't do them in combination. The first leap, I was a little apprehensive but I landed okay. It was the grand jeté where it all went wrong. It was disastrous, I landed awkwardly and my foot to slip, causing my ankle to roll outward. If that wasn't bad enough, I had landed with locked knees and the moment I landed, I felt a locking and popping in my left knee, naturally I fell. As I tried to get up, my ankle just gave out from under me with a sickening crunch. The physios thought I had a severe sprain, but they couldn't tell since my ankle had ballooned. The doctor I was referred to said I had broken my fibula and fractured my tibia, he also said that I had torn my meniscus. I had to get surgery on my ankle and my knee. They put metal pins in to hold the bones in place so they would heal properly and they put tacks in my knee to repair my meniscus. I was constantly being told I was lucky, because my knee and ankle healed properly and quickly so I could dance again," I recounted the story solemnly.

"Sounds terrible," Jordan shuddered.

"It was," The pain of physical therapy and the actual injury was nothing to the pain in my heart, it felt like my heart was being slowly shredded in two.

"At least you're all better now," Jordan said.

"Yeah," I palpated down the outside of my leg to my left ankle, if I pressed hard enough, I can feel the screws holding my ankle together. The familiar feeling of the screws made me think of what the doctor had said to me: 'when it heals it will be stronger than ever, stronger than it was before the injury.' If only I could find screws to hold my heart together, if only my heart could heal and be stronger than ever, stronger than before the injury. If only. If only it could heal so I could love Jordan. If only.


	17. Dreaming and Knowing

Here's the next chapter! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Though it does feature my lame attempt at smut and humor. I'm still pretty sad about Max Talbot playing for the Flyers next year. He will be missed. The ice got a little bit colder in Pittsburgh with you gone, Max. I promise to post more often! Please review!

* * *

**Knowing and Dreaming**

"It's almost midnight," Jordan stated plainly.

"Really? Have we been talking for that long?" My eyes wandered to the alarm clock on my nightstand. 11:57 PM. Time seemed to be moving too fast, I found myself wishing for time to slow down, for our conversation to never end.

"Yeah, I guess we have," Jordan mumbling the last few words as he yawned.

"Tired?" I teased.

"Yeah, I guess I am," He laughed.

"Go to bed, I'd hate to be the one to keep you up."

"Really? I mean we can still talk if you want," Jordan replied sleepily as he fought to suppress another yawn.

"No, I want you to sleep," I said definitively. I was 'putting my foot down' as Anna would say.

"If you say so," Jordan relented, "Good night Sveta, I love you,"

Those last three words made my heart stop. My mouth went dry. I tried to swallow the lump that was undoubtedly forming in my throat as I attempted to say something in response. "Good night Jordan," I managed to choke out.

"Sveta, is there something wrong?"

"C-can you please not say that?"

"What? Goodnight?" Jordan must have been completely oblivious.

"No, 'I love you.' I just don't want you saying it and me not. It would be like if I was calling you my boyfriend and you weren't calling me your girlfriend," I tried in vain to explain.

"Yeah sure, sure no problem," Jordan said, his tone was indifferent and hard to read, I wish I could tell if he was hurt or not by what I had said, "Well, goodnight Sveta, I really really like you."

"Goodnight Jordan, I really really like you too," I replied with a wide smile as I shut my phone. I couldn't help but feel giddy, grinning like a fool as I curled underneath my blanket. After I was comfortably settled in my bed, my phone suddenly started to vibrate, the suddenness made my heart jump. It was a text from a number I did not recognize.

"I'm sorry for what I said last night. I feel terrible, maybe I should lay off the vodka –Evgeni," My eyes read the flowing cyrillic script, seeing his name made my mouth go dry, my eyes well up in tears, my heart beat erratically. I wasn't sure what to text back in response. What does one say in response to something like that? 'Its okay, don't worry about it', just doesn't seem to fit the bill.

"We all make mistakes," was all I could think of as a reply.

"I know and I made a big one, please forgive me," Evgeni texted back in record time. I could only imagine the innocent look in his eyes and pout that was undoubtedly played on his lips, as he texted his response.

"Of course I forgive you," I felt so weak, I could never say no to him. He had such a hold on me, I wish he could just set me free and leave me be. I wish I could just say no and resist him, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. I could feel the vibration of my phone, indicating that Evgeni had replied, but I forced myself to not read the text. I was scared of what it said. I was scared of what I would reply back. But, I couldn't help it. I was so weak.

I read the text: "Thank you for being so understanding. We should meet up for drinks soon. Goodnight, my love." My love. It sounds sad, it sounds pathetic but those two words made me feel so good, like they validated my trip to Pittsburgh, like they validated my existence. It was a cheap thrill, though, the type that didn't last and left you craving for more.

"Goodnight," I texted back, no matter how much I wanted it to. I couldn't bring myself to put those four letters into the text. As I laid my head on my pillow, I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to convince myself that I had not just fallen back under Evgeni's spell.

* * *

_"Jordan," She whispered huskily in my ear. Her dark brown hair cascading in waves down her back as a few locks fell into her face, covering those golden eyes. Those eyes, they reminded me of so many things: the sun, the leaves in the fall, the golden wheat that grew in Thunder Bay, the glass of Jack Daniels or the shot of tequila that I often found myself drinking. It fit so perfectly, her eyes were as intoxicating as any alcohol yet she was as pure and as wholesome as nature itself. "Jordan," she moaned into my ear as my hands traveled from her slender thighs to slide under her shirt and explored the smooth expanse of skin, caressing the soft, supple flesh that seemed to beg for my touch. Was it my fingers or her skin that was so scorching hot? It didn't matter as I found myself kissing the base of her neck, near the collar bone, sucking on the delicate skin, knowing it would leave a mark. I worked my way up, as I found her sweet spot, just below her jaw line off to the side where you would take your pulse. It was an adrenaline rush to feel her pulse quicken as I nipped the sensitive skin with my teeth, eliciting a whimper. Then I caught her swollen lips in kiss, it was hungrier, more passionate than any kiss I've ever given. It was like a fire, that was consuming me, but I didn't mind. She pulled away and those champagne eyes bore into mine as she whispered, "Jordan."_

"Sveta," I whispered as I woke up from my dream. It was so real, the taste of her skin, the heat of her body, the scent of her hair. I need a cold shower. It wasn't so much that I was dreaming of Sveta, it was that I was dreaming of her every time I slept. It wasn't just when I slept at night, it was when I took my naps, when I closed my eyes, when I let my mind wander, I didn't even have to be unconscious. The image, the sensations were seared into my brain and I wouldn't have it any other way. I need a cold shower.

* * *

"This is John and Kevin," Charlie introduced, "John'll be taking pictures and Kevin'll be interviewing you for the local magazine."

"Hi," I said shaking both of their hands, it was after lunch and we hadn't started class yet. All day, everyone was buzzing about John and Kevin. From what I understood, John was famous from his works in fashion magazines, which only added more fuel to the fire. The duo had been shooting and interviewing everyone, some for a few seconds others for a few hours.

"Okay, now we have to get to work," Charlie declared as he clapped his hands together, "We're going to be working on another lift," which elicited groans from the pair of us.

* * *

This rehearsal was difficult to say the least. We learned the second-third of the routine, which meant learning two new lifts.

"Svetlana, right?" John asked as I started packing up.

"Yeah, that's me."

"Well, you're the last one," John said gesturing to his camera, "We brought a wardrobe it's in the costuming workshop. So, get changed and we'll shoot you in here."

"Sure thing," I said with a smile as I made my way to the Workshop. Wendy, the costume lady, was there waiting for me.

"Hey, Svetlana, finally. Okay, lemme find your outfits," Wendy said as she started to sift through hangers.

"Outfits?"

"Yeah, I think we have a few outfits for you," Wendy clarified as she pulled out two hangers. They were basically dance clothes, except these were dance clothes that were made by designer brands. "You can get dressed here, and take the pictures and come back to change."

I simply nodded as I changed out of my leotard into a pair of white patterned shorts and a white off-the-shoulder shirt with a rendering of a palm tree on the front. I slid on a pair of gray legwarmers and made my way to the studio. When, I walked in the studio John had his camera set up on a tripod and Terrence and Charlie were sitting behind a computer with Kevin, which I assumed where the pictures were being uploaded. "Hi," I said shyly.

"Fantastic that looks great on you," John complimented, "Now we're going for a lot of beautiful shapes and some shots of you just kind of casual, too. So we're going to do a wide variety of shots. Just warm up and do some stretches, and we'll go from there."

And I did just that. I just warmed up at the bar regularly, the only difference being the clicking sound of John's camera. After I had sufficiently warmed up, I started doing some battements, like we would in class. "Hey Svetlana!" Charlie bantered, "I heard you had the highest battement in the Company."

"I don't know about that," I mumbled, blushing at the flattery. "I guess you should be the judge of that." I suggested as I développéd my leg through coupé forward into a Y-scale, holding my ankle for stability, I looked over my shoulder back at Charlie, but before Charlie could respond, there was a series of clicks, indicating that John had taken a picture.

"That's the money shot. Okay, great those are looking good," John said as he browsed through the pictures on his camera, "Now how about you change and we try some action shots?"

"Sure," I said as I hurriedly changed into a different outfit, which was a loose, black, jersey dress with black legwarmers. After about a few shots of me doing saut de chats and grand jetés, and just dancing, they asked me to change once again. This time, they just wanted me to look casual and nonchalant. When we finally finished shooting it was almost dinnertime and I was dead tired. It sounds silly that someone would be tired from a photo shoot, but it was long, tedious work.

By the time, I was at the apartment; Alicia and Anna had just finished making dinner. "How was the photo shoot?" Anna asked.

"It was okay, tiring. They had me wear a bunch of different outfits," I answered as I sat at the table, piling salad and chicken on my plate, "How about you? What have you guys been doing?"

"Oh nothing really, relaxing, resting," Alicia said as she started to eat.

"Do you wanna go out with us?" Anna asked, "We're gonna go to this new club that's opening tonight,"

"No, its okay," I politely declined, "I think I've had my fair share of clubs for now."

"Come on," Alicia pleaded, "One club, that's all you've been to since you came here,"

"I know it's pathetic, but I'm pretty tired. I think I'm just gonna wash up and then go to bed," I yawned.

"Sure, sure," Anna acquiesced, "But, one of these days were gonna get you in a club,"

"Okay, I promise," I said as we finished dinner. I volunteered to do the dishes since, I did not help make dinner.

After showering and changing into pajamas, I slid underneath my quilt. Then, my phone started to ring, it was Jordan.

"Hello," I answered.

"Hi, Sveta, it's Jordan,"

"Hi, is something wrong Jordan?" I asked. This wasn't normal. He never called me, we usually were content with a few texts here and there. Last night was out of the ordinary.

"No, nothing at all," Jordan replied cheerfully, "I just wanted to hear your voice. How was your day?"

"Good, these guys from the local magazine took pictures of us and we're really progressing into the dance."

"Sounds cool, so are you gonna be a cover girl soon?"

"No, I don't think so. It's just going to be a little piece to help promote the Showcase."

"Well, I'm going to be the first one at the news stand to buy some copies,"

"Thanks," I said as I could feel my cheeks blush to a light red.

"You're blushing, aren't you?" Jordan teased.

"How can you tell? You can't even see me,"

"I'm telling you, I'm psychic. I have like ESP or something,"

"More like ESPN," I joked.

"Ouch, that hurts, baby," Jordan said in mock pain.

"So is this becoming our new thing?"

"What? You making jokes at my expense?"

"That too, but I was thinking more along the lines of before-bed-phone-calls,"

"It is, if you want it to be. It'll come in handy when I go on away games."

"I think I'd like that," I mused.

"Me too," The sincerity in his voice, made me feel warm inside. I don't know how long we were on the phone, not saying anything. But it was like we didn't need to say anything, we just needed to know that somewhere was there on the other line ready to listen if we did need to say anything. I felt my eyelids grow heavy as I stifled a yawn. "Are you tired?" Jordan asked worried.

"A little bit, I guess. It's been a long day," I said as I, again, tried to stifle my yawn.

"Look who's sleepy now," Jordan teased, referring to last night, "Go to sleep Sveta," Jordan added more seriously.

"Okay, I will," I said nodding out of habit.

"Can I come visit you tomorrow? At the Theatre? We have a short practice tomorrow."

"Yeah, of course. I think we're doing costumes tomorrow, so you can visit me in the Workshop, during fittings. Charlie and Wendy won't mind,"

"I'd like that. You should sleep Sveta. Goodnight, I really really like you."

"Goodnight Jordan, I really really like you too," I said as I shut my phone and snuggled underneath the blankets and fell into what I hoped was a dreamless sleep, but was I wrong.

_"Svetlana," a husky voice, which I instantly recognized as Jordan's groaned. My eyes of molten gold met his eyes of ocean blue. There was a wanting, one that blurred the lines between lust and love. My lips brushed against his in a fluttery kiss. The kiss was chaste and pure but Jordan eagerly exploited it, caressing my lower lip with his tongue, which made a shiver run up and down my spine. The skill was expected but the tenderness surprised me, he was carefully undemanding as in one smooth stroke he entered my mouth. He tasted of something sweet yet spicy, something that was uniquely Jordan. It was over all too soon, as he pulled away. I found myself fixated by those sapphire orbs that seemed too blue to be real. Slowly, flecks of brown stained those china blue eyes. The onyx slowly spread, taking over the lapis lazuli. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I knew whose eyes they were. I caught the faint glimmer of those dark chocolate eyes before Evgeni's mouth came down on mine. I tried to pull away, startled by the suddenness, but weight of his body held me still. The kiss was hungry, yearning, and… rough. The passion was fierce, almost overwhelming. He kissed me as if he was trying to rob the air from my lungs, as if it was the last thing he would ever do. "Svetlana, Svetlana," he repeated breathlessly when he finally broke the kiss._

"Jordan," I may have been dreaming of both Evgeni and Jordan, but when I woke it was Jordan's name that was on my lips. When I woke, my heart was pumping so fast, so hard, that it felt like I had just ran a mile. I quickly took a shower and got ready for class. As the three of us, Anna, Alicia and I, sat on the bus. I couldn't help but think about the dream. It was so vivid, so graphic.

* * *

"Penny for your thoughts," Anna said looking at me with those smiling eyes that I missed so much. The three of us were wedged into a seat on the bus with me having the window and Alicia getting the aisle.

"I don't know," I sighed exasperated, "I'm thinking about Jordan," About Evgeni, I thought silently to myself. While we have become closer, I didn't dare tell Anna about Evgeni. "How do I know that what we have is really love and not just lust? I hear all these things from everyone about Jordan," I was at my wit's end, or at least if felt like it. I rested my head against the cool window, knitting my eyebrows together in frustration. The cool glass soothed the throbbing pain that hadn't, that almost couldn't, leave.

"You'll know, you'll just know. The difference between love and lust is extreme. Love is an emotion, lust is just a physical need like hunger. Love is so much more, it's trust. Without trust, there can't be love. So ask yourself, do I trust him? Do I trust him not to hurt me? Because when you love someone, you're giving them the power to shatter you into tiny little pieces but you trust them not to. Do I trust him with the most delicate parts of me, emotionally and physically? Can I trust him to love me? Because without trust, there can be no love," Anna's eyes were wistful and glassy as she spoke.

"Thank you," was all I could muster. The expression on her face made me wonder how she knew all of this but I didn't dare press the subject. She would tell me when she trusted me enough to keep that secret. Until then, I will wait patiently.

"So," Alicia said, stretching out the 'o', "How's the pas de deux going?"

"Good, I guess. It's really difficult. When we first started, Charlie spent a good hour trying to break down my center to make the movements more fluid and more modern. But, it kind of clicked after that, so it's running pretty smoothly. We're hoping to finish the choreography, so we can start polishing. How about you?"

"It's going great. It's totally up my alley. There's this tango flavor to it with this old French can-can twist. It's gonna be uh-mazing!" The wide grin that was plastered on Alicia's face told it all.

I was going to ask Anna but, it was a sore subject. Luckily, we had reached the Theatre and I didn't have to ask. Class was the same routine, stretch, barre work, and then across the floor. It was usual, it was necessary, it was uneventful. But today was different.

"Okay, ladies. Today we will be focusing on leaps, I want you to really get them up in the rafters and really get that extension, hit those splits. The combination is tombé pas de boureé, pas de chat with quarter turn so that you're facing the mirror, right chassé, left chassé, saut de chat, tour jeté, grand jeté en tournant, chaîné off. It's difficult, I know, but really try to get the elevation and keep the energy up till the end. 1, 2, 3, 4," Madame Stiefel counted and clapped as the first line went.

I was confident with the combination, save for the tour jeté, grand jeté en tournant combination it was uncannily similar to the combination that I injured my ankle on. I forced myself to smile and told myself I could do it. I closed my eyes, visualizing myself doing the combination perfectly, without locked knees, without an awkward landing, without a rolled ankle. I focused on nothing but doing that combination as perfect and as beautiful as I could.

"5, 6, 7, 8, and go," Madame Stiefel counted as it suddenly came to my line's turn. I went full force, I didn't hold back, I didn't let any apprehension or fear seep into my performance. I just performed. By the time I landed the grand jeté en tournant, I didn't have to force a smile, I was beaming from ear to ear.

Then Martha's line was up, she was never a good jumper, particularly after she tore her left ACL. But today the determination in her eyes, told all of us that she was going to change that. But, I knew something was wrong. On her saut de chat, Martha's knee wavered and seemed to buckle but she kept on going. I wanted to cry out and tell her to not go for the following leaps, but it was like a movie where everything was moving in slow motion and you couldn't hear anything but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. A hush fell over the studio as Martha never got to finish the combination. She landed her tour jeté and her right knee looked unstable and wobbled as she started to initiate the turn to get the momentum into the jeté. As she turned, a sickening pop echoed in the studio which was followed by the Martha sobbing and screaming, "Why!"

I knew. I knew she tore her other ACL. I knew as I saw the trainers test her knee. I knew as they carried her to Therapy Room. I knew Martha would be out for the season. I knew that now, Anna had the lead in the Glass Slipper. I knew.


	18. Doubts

I am going to be posting more often and try and get you guys caught up to where my Mibba and Quizilla accounts are. I hope you liked this chapter. Please review! Nothing makes me happier!

* * *

**Doubts**

We ate lunch in silence, some of us were still too shocked to say anything, and others couldn't get the sound of Martha's screams out of their heads. It was those screams that reminded us of how fragile we were, of how we were one leap away from ending our careers and made us questioned why we were doing this, why we were putting our bodies on the line every day, why we were pursuing a career that ends when you're 30.

* * *

When I entered the studio, it was silent, which was odd considering Charlie and Alejandro weren't exactly the silent types. Charlie was going through the choreography on one side of the studio and Alejandro was warming up and stretching at the barre on the other side. I dropped off my duffel and swapped my flip-flops for pointe shoes and went to warm up at the barre with Alejandro.

"So," Alejandro said, breaking the tension that was undeniably surrounding us when we were warming up at the barre, "I heard about Martha, I'm sorry."

"Don't say sorry, you didn't do anything," I grinned weakly, "It's not like you forced Martha to tear her ACL."

"I guess you're right," Alejandro added solemnly, his eyes were somber and he was half-heartedly warming up. He was merely going through the motions, he wasn't focusing on loosening his muscles or anything, it seemed.

"Were you close to her?" I was curious about his reaction. I've never seen Martha and Alejandro sitting next to each other, let alone talking, so it was difficult to imagine them being friends.

"I don't know, I guess. We had a one-night stand," Alejandro ran his fingers through his hair anxiously as his eyes shifted from left to right. His casual tone was betrayed by his nervous mannerisms.

"Oh," was all I could say as I finished warming up and stretching. A one-night stand, it seemed so- so out of the question for me. It lacked any emotional attachment, any intimacy. I guess that was what Anna was referring to. A one-night stand was merely lust, merely the satisfying of a hunger.

"Okay, guys let's get this baby done, so you guys can start focusing on the little nuances and on curtain call," Charlie said smiling, clapping his hands together.

"Curtain call?" I asked confused.

"Oh they haven't told you? Curtain call is where all the featured dancers, you know the one's who get solos, are in the pas de deuxs, and have leads in the group numbers get to perform a fun, little group number. They call it curtain call 'cause it's the last dance of the show. It's a reward, a privilege of sorts, it's always really fun and you can show off their personality and creativity," Charlie explained.

"Sounds fun," I answered unsure of what my response should be.

"It is, last year we did this really cool Michael Jackson number for curtain call and I got to do the moonwalk," Alejandro's smiled broadly as he recalled the fond memory.

"That was fun," Charlie said rubbing his chin as he reminisced, "Okay enough dilly-dallying we gotta get to work. And we have to go down to meet Wendy to help fit costumes," Charlie had this cheesy, suggestive grin on his face as he elbowed Alejandro in the ribs.

"Nice," Alejandro said, emphasizing the 'i,' with his signature smirk.

"Anyways, where did we leave off?" Charlie asked as he scrolled through the song to find the right place in the music.

"At the kick out lift," I replied.

"Fantastic we will definitely finish today and we can get those costumes fitted."

"Oh!" I exclaimed as I suddenly remembered Jordan, "Is it alright if a friend of mine drops by during fittings?"

"Sure, I don't see why not," Charlie said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Now let's finish this bad boy."

* * *

Rehearsal went well, we had finished the whole piece, and now all we had to do was refine and work on our expression. As I made my way downstairs to the Workshop, suddenly, my phone started to beep, telling me that someone was calling. Jordan.

"Hello," I answered.

"Hi, I'm at the Theatre, where's this side door you speak of?" Jordan said sounding perplexed.

"Okay, are you at the front? Where you dropped me off on Monday?"

"Yeah, I think so, so where do I go from there?"

"Okay you have to go around the Theatre to the back. You'll see door that says 'Workshop', that's where you want to be."

"Okay gotcha, I'll see you soon."

"Hopefully," I teased as I bid my farewells and shut my phone. When I had entered the Workshop, Alex was getting fitted. Charlie was there too, making sure everything was to his liking.

"Hey, whatcha think? Pretty nice, huh?" Alejandro said as he turned around in the mirror. He was wearing a pair of dark gray slacks with a white dress shirt and tie. "Comes complete with snaps for easier ripping off."

"It looks good," I laughed as I nodded in approval.

"They're made of a stretch so he can still hit those splits. Alright, all done, I'm just gonna have to hem these and it'll be perfect," Wendy said as she speedily finished pinning the hem of his pants.

"I can go?" Alejandro said as he checked his appearance for what seemed to be the 100th time.

"Yeah," Wendy remarked as she rifled through the countless hangers looking for my costume.

"Sweet," Alejandro said as he went into the dressing room to change.

"Aha!" Wendy exclaimed as she pulled out a red lace, empire-waisted, lingerie-inspired number, with sequins, "I found it!"

I was at a loss for words, from the scarlet red to the shortness of the hem, I couldn't believe they expected me to wear this. I would need to wear spandex boy shorts with them it was that short and the red color would look garish against my pale skin. The sequins which adorned the mesh stomach in a striped pattern were over the top to say the least.

"You like it?" Wendy asked eagerly.

"Umm," I tried to say something else, but it just came out as a squeak.

"Just go try it on, and you'll see, it'll look perfect on you," Wendy reassured as she pushed me towards an empty dressing room.

It took me several minutes to just gather the courage to put on the 'dress' I had to wear a matching scarlet boy shorts with the costume. I felt so bare, so exposed.

"Come on, Svetlana, we don't have all day," said Alejandro, was he waiting for me? Did he know that this was the costume?

"Okay," I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves and muster up every ounce of courage as I stepped out of the dressing room.

"Wow," was all Alejandro said as he gawked, "Looking good Svetlana," He added a wolf whistle for extra embarrassment.

"Get up here," Wendy said gesturing to the podium, so she could pin and tack anything. I merely obeyed, keeping my head down because I knew that the blush on my cheeks would match my costume. "Is this how you liked it?" Wendy asked Charlie.

"Yeah, it's perfect. I know you're uncomfortable with this but this will help you get into character. Imagine the embarrassment- the shame that a mistress would feel. Imagine how exposed she would feel, the costume should help you do that. Just channel what you're feeling into the character," Charlie reassured, "Well, I trust that you two can finish up the fitting without me. I have to go. See yah, tomorrow Svetlana, Alejandro," Charlie said as he left the Workshop.

"Yeah I have to go to, you look great, Svetlana," Alejandro said as he too exited the Workshop. As if on cue as Alejandro and Charlie left the Workshop, Jordan pushed open the side entrance door.

"Hey, finally found this place," Jordan said his eyes cast down, not yet seeing me, "Woah," was all he said as his eyes grew to the size of saucers.

"Yeah, I know," I said lowering my head as the sanguine blush crept from my cheeks down my neck.

"That's- that's um, really pretty, Sveta, it looks really good on you," I could tell by how Jordan cleared his throat, he wanted to say something else.

"Thanks," My voice was barely above a whisper.

"Don't you just love the sequins, they will look so good on stage," Wendy glowed as she nipped in the waist and drew chalk marks along the sides for slits.

"Could you add an elastic around the stomach?" I suggested, "So it won't flop around when I dance."

"Yeah of course, we have some red elastic here somewhere. Do you want to take the neckline down a little bit, to create a more sweetheart effect?"

"Yes," Jordan blurted out impulsively.

"Sure," I bit my lower lip apprehensively as Wendy pinned a lower neckline.

"Alrighty then," Wendy said with a chuckle as she finished pinning the neckline, "I think we're done here. You can change back into your street clothes, should I make an extra for you and your boyfriend?" Wendy eyes darted from me to Jordan and back to me with an inquisitive look in her eyes.

I only blushed as I hopped off the platform and walked to the dressing room. I could hear the racing of my heart and Jordan's deep laughter as I changed back into my regular clothes. It didn't occur to me till after I had changed out of the costume that neither of us denied Wendy's assumption that I was Jordan's girlfriend.

"Could you please?" Jordan said. I could hear the laughter in his voice.

"I'll see what I can do," Wendy teased.

Once I gathered enough courage, I walked out of the dressing room and looped my arm through Jordan's. I think this surprised him, he tensed ever so slightly but immediately relaxed. For me, looping my arm through his was just as bold as kissing him on a public street. "Let's go," I adjusted the strap of my duffel and pressed my cheek against his arm.

"Sure thing, here lemme take that for you," Jordan with a shocking ease and grace slipped my dance bag off my shoulder and swung it on to his.

"See you later Svetlana," Wendy said as we made our way through the side exit.

"See you later Wendy," I waved goodbye.

"It's nice to meet you Wendy, remember my order," Jordan grinned a large Cheshire grin as he, too, waved goodbye, "I was hoping to see you dance, but the fitting was nice, too."

I buried my face into his arm, hoping he wouldn't see the blush that was spreading across my cheeks, "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Oh, I more than enjoyed it," Jordan said as I slid into the passenger seat of his car, "Should I take you home or…"

"The apartment is fine, home is in Russia. I doubt you would want to drive me there," I joked as I wrapped my cardigan around myself tighter. I felt so exposed with Jordan having seen me in so little. I felt like whenever he looked at me he was imagining me in the red negligee. I know we kissed and I know we slept in the same bed together, but I just wasn't ready to take it to the next step. It felt so intimate, it is so intimate.

"I guess, I wouldn't want to drive you all the way to Russia," Jordan mused, his eyes held a laughter and amusement, "I have an early practice tomorrow, I wouldn't know how to make it back in time."

I just laughed as we pulled up in front of the apartment. Jordan opened my door for me, even helping me down. "Thank you," I whispered as I noticed how we were angled. Jordan was pressed against me, leaning on his forearm that rested against the doorframe of the car, while the car door obstructed us from Robinson's view.

"You looked really good in your costume," Jordan whispered and I caught the look in his eyes. The same look from my dream. The look that blurred the lines between lust and love. The lines between physical and emotional need. Before anything registered, Jordan's lips came down onto mine.

I was startled and almost pulled away, but the fingers that had entangled themselves in my hair held me still. The practiced slide of his mouth against mine made me shudder as I thought of how he honed such skill. What startled me more was how tender and patient the kiss was but beneath that tenderness there was a hunger, a fire that seemed to be burning it's way to the surface. I knew it was wrong, to return a kiss like this when there's someone else, when there's Evgeni. But I couldn't help it, everything felt so right. Evgeni became just a distant memory and Jordan became a reality. The passion, the hunger was enveloping me and… I liked it. Jordan started to tug at the knot that tied my cardigan shut.

I froze.

"I'm sorry," Jordan groaned as he reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, "I'm so sorry, Sveta," Jordan whispered the regret evident in his voice, as he wrapped his arms around my waist and held me in a tender embrace, "I shouldn't have done that, I was lost in the moment."

"It's okay," I wrapped my arms around his neck, drawing him closer.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I crossed the line."

"It's okay, it's okay," I murmured as I rested my head on his chest. I heard the lub-dubb, lub-dubb of his heart. It felt so unfair, how his heart was so calm while mine felt like it was about to jump out of my chest. His kisses was more potent than any drug, stronger than any liquor, they made my head spin and my heart race. Everything felt so safe, so right, and so true but at the same time there was a sense of urgency, a sense of danger. "I think- I think I have to go, people are starting to stare."

"Let them stare, let's just stay like this for a little while longer," Jordan replied, "Let them stare. I don't care," And we did. I don't know how much time passed but, I could care less. When I was with Jordan, nothing mattered except for Jordan.

* * *

"Let them stare," I mumbled as I just held her. I tried to fight off those images of the fitting. That costume, was wow. I mean it was the skimpiest I've ever seen her. The way she looked in those spandex bootie shorts. Wow. The way the red lace set off her pale skin. Amazing. The way it showed off her perfect body. Incredible. The way the short hem made her legs go on for forever. Mouth-watering. The way she looked so embarrassed wearing the salacious confection. Adorable. But it was one of those things, where I couldn't call it sexy or hot because it just had those connotations. God, connotations? Where am I getting these words? Maybe it was those images that made me want to cross the line, which I was still mentally kicking myself over. How could I so eagerly try to undress her? She's not some puck bunny. She's not like Oksana. I told myself chuckling lightly at my last thought, she's more than that, she deserves more than that. I felt like I couldn't apologize enough. I looked down at her, she looked so fragile, so delicate now, with her head pressed against my chest. I felt an instant jolt of panic, could she hear how fast my heart is pounding? I forced myself to calm down, to enjoy the moment. But, I found it difficult. The guilt ate away at me, looking at her innocence only added to it. I felt like I had taken advantage of her. But she forgave me, she forgave me. So it's okay, right?

* * *

"You forgive me right?" Jordan's eyes were fraught with worry as if my constant reassuring did nothing to assuage his guilt, "I just feel so guilty, I know you need time and that you're not ready yet."

"Of course I forgive you," I comforted, hoping that saying it once more would ease his guilt, "We all make mistakes. We all have lapses of judgment."

"Thank you, thank you for understanding, Sveta," Jordan mumbled. "I think you should go inside, I'm pretty sure that this looks really suspicious to your doorman. Maybe I'll visit you tomorrow."

I reluctantly untangled myself from our intertwined limbs, "Today, was…" I couldn't find the right words, nothing seemed to fit, "Today was fun,"

Jordan smiled, "Thanks, same here. Sveta, I'm sor-" Jordan started to apologize but I shushed by simply pressing my lips to his in a chaste kiss.

"I told you, I already forgive you," I said with a smirk, that chaste, little kiss sent the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I skipped back to my apartment, "Bye Jordan, I really, really like you."

"Bye Sveta," Jordan said softly, touching his lips with his fingers as if he was shocked that I had done that. I felt so bold today, so empowered, I wasn't sure what it was but I liked it.


	19. Pet Names

So I've officially quite Quizilla, since the site has been deleting my stories, so this story can be found on Mibba, where my username is Yakitori. I will be posting my one-shots and other stories on here too. I have a Mike Green one-shot, an Iker Casillas two-shot, and a Cristiano Ronaldo story still to post. I am also working on a new story but I'm not liking it as much as I want to so who knows. It features Sidney Crosby. Here's the new chapter! I hope you like it and thanks for all the support!

* * *

Pet Names

Confidence and adrenaline coursed through my veins, the source was undoubtedly Jordan. I was practically skipping my way to the apartment. I didn't even care that Robinson was giving me questionable looks when I entered the building. _Let them stare_, Jordan's words echoed in the corners of my mind. I was grinning ear to ear when I reached the elevator.

When I got into the apartment, Anna was nowhere to be seen and Alicia was plopped on the couch watching TV while giving herself a manicure and pedicure. "Hey Leesha," Leesha being my new nickname for Alicia. Anya was what I wanted to call Anna, but our friendship was questionable and I wasn't sure if I had earned it yet.

"How's it going honey?" Alicia replied completely engrossed in painting her toe nails a fire-engine red. _Honey_, I never understood that nickname. It was simple American term of endearment that many Russians, including myself, simply did not comprehend. Honey was dripping and sticky. Russians preferred to mold names, build out of them affectionate, individual shapes - _Zhenya_, _Zhenechka_, _Zhenyusha_, all pet names for Evgeni.

Names I never was able to use for Evgeni in public. In general, in Russia, you only ever use a pet name for a man is if you were lovers or immediate family. To the public, I was neither to Evgeni. To them, I did not have a right to call him Zhenya or Zhenechka affectionately. I quickly put thoughts of Evgeni out of my head. I didn't need him, I had Jordan. Jordan, I needed to create a nickname for him.

"Great, where's Anna?" I asked as I heated the leftover Chinese takeout in the microwave.

"Practicing, she'll be putting in some late rehearsals to try and get up to speed on the number."

"It's official then. Anna has taken over Martha's role," I couldn't help but feel sad for Martha. She had put in so much hard work and all of it ends before performance season has even started. I couldn't fathom what Anna was going through. Did she feel guilty? Sad? Happy?

"Yup, Martha's out for the season and needs surgery. I wouldn't be surprised if she retired soon, I mean her body is pretty beat up. A lot of us including, Mr. Orr, think that she should hang up her pointe shoes," Alicia said with a casual, almost indifferent demeanor.

I was shocked by her detached tone. This was Martha, their friend, the girl they sat with everyday to stretch and warm up. "I didn't know her for long and we weren't very close, but I'll miss her," I was frustrated by their reactions. Would they be this nonchalant if I was injured? Would they care? Would they just be glad that there was less competition?

"She's not dead," Alicia quipped flatly.

"I guess you're right..." My voice trailed off. My cheeks blushed pink as I picked at the carton of takeout. Not exactly healthy and it did little to ease my queasy stomach. I set the carton down on the counter and walked to my room. My limbs felt heavy and fatigue was clouding my thoughts. I showered and changed into my pajamas before slipping into bed.

I pulled the covers over my head, my cell phone warm in the palm of my hand. I was waiting for Jordan's call. He was always the one to call first. I was always the one to wait. I nearly jumped when my cell phone beeped to life, without thinking, I snapped the phone open and answered immediately, "Took you long enough," the teasing in my voice evident.

"_Lana_?" The voice, I knew so well, asked with a slight confusion. "_Lana_? _Moia dorogaia_?"

Lana. My dear. He said the words so naturally, so fluidly as if he had never told me that he didn't love me, as if he had never left, as if he wasn't with someone else. Could anyone else say those words in the way he did? The way he dragged out the word "dear" in Russian, in such a melodious way.

"Are you there?" He asked in Russian. How I missed his voice, more than I realized.

"Yes," I whispered in Russian, "Yes, I'm here." I could feel my eyebrows knitting together in both frustration and a poignant sadness as memories of the club flooded my mind and tears stung my eyes.

"I've been thinking about you," His soft, almost cautious like he wasn't sure if he was saying the right things.

_About how you broke my heart_? I thought as tried to blink away the tears.

"I've been thinking about us," He added, not waiting for a response.

"Like what? How I came to Pittsburgh for you? How you basically said there was never anything between us? How our whole relationship meant nothing to you? Have you been thinking about the night before I left for Moscow? Have you been thinking it was a mistake?" There was anger, an anger that I didn't know existed but was quietly boiling inside of me.

"Do you think it was a mistake?" His voice was laden with guilt.

The night before I left for Moscow. I squeezed my eyes shut trying to repress the memory. I was 16, almost 17 and I was going to leave home for the first. I was going to leave Evgeni. We met outside at the lake behind my house, our usual meeting spot.

* * *

It was mid-summer and the Russian White Nights, signaled it as such. Despite it being, past midnight, the sun still burned brightly in the "night sky."

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Svetlana whispered as she laid in the soft, green grass. Her hand intertwined with Evgeni's, who laid in the grass next to her. Her heart pounded in her ears, at thought of her leaving, of not being able to see Evgeni everyday. _Zhen_-_ya_,_Zhen_-_ya_, _Zhen_-_ya_ it seemed to be beating. She so despreately wanted to say his name out loud. _Zhenya_.

"I know," There was a definite sadness to his voice, "I know," He repeated, closing his eyes, letting the sun warm his face. He looked down at their hands, he couldn't tell his fingers from hers. He tugged on her arm, signaling he wanted her closer.

A smile spread across those lips that he had kissed over and over again. It was a genuine smile, not one of those smiles he'd seen her plaster on when she went on stage. It was a smile that brought out her dimples and reached her eyes. She snuggled closer against him, a warmth starting from the bottom of her belling spread and warmed her to her fingertips and toes.

They laid there together, intertwined on the grass like that for minutes, hours, but to the young couple it wasn't enough because soon it would be over. One of them was leaving and it would end, it would have to end.

"I want to show you a place," Evgeni whispered into her hair, inhaling it's sweet strawberry scent.

Svetlana nodded as they both got up and Evgeni, still holding her hand, guided her around the lake to the old boathouse and lead her inside. The boathouse had been emptied long ago, when her father had sold all his row boats, but the blankets that Evgeni had laid on the floor.

They both understood what they were doing as Evgeni slid the strap of her yellow nightgown off her delicate shoulder, as Svetlana unbuttoned his cotton shirt that clung to his broad chest, as they fell to the blankets stark naked. They were consummating their relationship, their emotions, in a physical way. They were showing each other how much they loved each other. They were each other's first and in that night, they thought they would be each other's last and only. They were making love.

* * *

"No," My voice was soft, I almost didn't want him to hear it, I didn't want myself to hear it. That night was my first, last and only time I slept with someone. I made myself completely and utterly vulnerable to him, I had given him everything, my heart, my soul, my body. But even now, as I lay in my bed with tears that refused to blink away and my heart in pieces, I still do not regret it.


	20. Understand

This is one of the favorite chapters I've ever written. I wanted to develop the other character and give them another dimension with this chapter and I hope I did just that. I will be posting the Mike Green one-shot soon, so look out for that. Please review! It makes me so happy to see those emails in my inbox (Lame, I know!)!

* * *

Understand

"Neither do I," His voice was silk. I could imagine his facial expression, soft and vulnerable like his voice was now.

"I-" I started but I stopped myself before I get the rest out. _I still love you_, I wanted to say. I wanted to say it so desperately that it hurt. I was falling back into his gravity. I was getting sucked in by his charm. I was running back to him after he made me feel like a fool. He tore my heart into pieces, he made me leave my family, he made me fall in love with him. Despite all these things, I wanted so badly for him to love me, for him to be with me.

I wanted to tell other people about the true nature of our relationship, not just that we were together and that I left and I followed him here. I yearned to tell others about how we loved each other, how we cared for each other, how we lived for each other.

_But they wouldn't understand_. No one but Evgeni and I would, or could, understand.

"You what?" He asked, his voice innocent as if he didn't just break my heart, as if he didn't have a girlfriend.

"I can't do this." I said with a finality that I fooled myself into believing.

"Can't do what?" He sounded oblivious, like he didn't know what he was doing, the kind of effect he had on me.

"You know what," I was gaining my confidence and it showed in my voice.

"I don't, so please tell me," He was playing with me. The condescending tone thick in his voice.

"You're trying to make me come back to you," I said through gritted teeth.

"Of course, I am. I still love you, I still need you,"

My heart stopped. He said the words I so needed to hear that I had begging to hear. Those words "_I still love you_" practically validated my coming to Pittsburgh. I wanted to say them back, profess my love to him over and over. But I held myself back, my brain was taking over my heart for the first time. "What about Oksana?"

"Oksana? She doesn't understand me like you do, she doesn't love me like you do,"

"Then leave her," I didn't want to be a mistress. I wasn't going to be the other woman. I deserved more than that. I needed more than that.

"I can't leave her. She gave everything for me. She came to America-"

I cut him off, "I gave everything to you! I came to America for you! I gave up all that I had for you!" I was screaming at this point. I didn't care who heard me, but the anger that I didn't know existed was bubbling to the surface.

"I see that now, I see that now," Evgeni tried to soothe me.

"Why couldn't you see it earlier? Why couldn't you see it in Russia? Why did you have to be with her? Why did you say those things to me in the club?" I was crying now. The tears were streaming down my cheeks and onto the pillows. It was all too painful for me to keep inside.

"I missed you too much then. I loved you too much. Oksana is just a substitute for you. I was scared when you came here. I didn't know how to react. I was scared that Oksana might find out and how she'll react. All the feelings I had for you when you came rushing back to me, but I can't leave Oksana. I had to say those things, because I love you."

"How can I believe you? When you said everything we had was just a lie. Are you lying to me now? Or were you lying to me back in the club?" I was hysterical. I knew Anna and Alicia could probably hear me, probably Mrs. Lachowski upstairs could hear me.

"I would never lie to you, _moia dorogaia_," He cooed. "I said those things because I was foolish and I made a mistake."

"I can't be with you," I said it slowly, deliberately as if the words themselves were foreign on my tongue. I was unsure of how to say it but I was sure that I needed to say it. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to get the tears to stop.

"Why not Lana? I love you, you love me thats all we need,"

"I can't trust you, anymore." My voice was threatening to waver.

"What does trust have to do with it?"

"Everything! How can I love you if I can't trust you with every part of me? How can I love you if I can't trust you to not break my heart again? How can I love you if I can't trust you to not run off with someone else?"

"You're acting like I cheated on you," He sounded annoyed like he did nothing wrong.

"You did! We were still a couple when you met Oksana at that club, or at least I thought we were."

"You're overreacting."

"I'm not. I can't be with you, if I can't trust you. I still love you and I always will, but I can't be with you. I want to, I want to so badly. But, I just can't. I can't." For the first time, I had been rational, looked at my relationship with Evgeni with a different perspective. It took everything I had to say those words. My heart pounded against my ribs and with every beat it ached.

It was over.

* * *

Anna and Alicia were watching re-runs of _America's Next Top Model_when loud yelling in Russian interrupted Tyra's crazy antics.

"God, what is it now?" Anna was irate as she turned up the volume on the TV.

"Come off it, she's having boy problems," Alicia defended, popping popcorn in her mouth.

"It's so nice to know she isn't always Little-Miss-Perfect!" Anna laughed maniacally, "She really is so annoying. She comes here and pretends she's this meek, little, foreign girl whose so unsure of herself. Then in, what, two months she has everyone eating out of the palm of her hand. She's getting featured roles in the Showcase and probably going to be Clara for The Nutcracker! I was here for over 15 years and I had to wait for someone to get injured to be seen!

"She gets all these compliments: 'What a perfect turnout!', 'Oh you have such beautiful expression', 'Your port des bras is so lovely,' She only gets those compliments because she's legacy. If she was a daughter of coal miner, no one would give her a second look. Seriously, she can barely do contemporary! All she is classical and she's traditional and old fashioned. And all this boy drama! Really? It's such a load of BS! She has two hot guys, three if you count Alejandro, just falling over themselves to be with her. Just choose one already!" Anna was fuming. She was a volatile mixture of jealousy and rage.

"How can you say those things? She's your friend?"

"Oh she ain't no friend of mine!"

"How can you mock her situation like that? You know what it's like to be in love with someone you're not supposed to. Or should I remind you about Mr. Gallagher?"

"You have no right! You know nothing- nothing!- about Jack and I!" Anna was hurt that Alicia, her best friend, would defend Svetlana.

"What don't I know? That he was your patron and you were his mistress? He had a family, children. How does it feel to be a home wrecker? What else don't I know? Am I missing anything? Perhaps, that when you were found out, he left Pittsburgh and stopped donating to PBT?"

"He loved me and I loved him. You wouldn't know anything about being loved in return!"

"That's low even for you," Alicia retreated to her room leaving Anna to think about what she said about Adam and her. Adam was Alicia's best friend since they were babies, really. Adam was in ballet from the day he could walk. It was Adam who told Alicia she should do ballet when she blew out her knee. It was Adam who helped her catch up to her peers. It was Adam Alicia loved. It was Sylvia that Adam loved. It was Adam who was world famous for his relationship- on-stage and off- with Sylvia. Sylvia was Adam's partner in the New York City Ballet, both of them were stars in their own right but together they were magnetic. Alicia still pines after Adam, Anna doesn't understand it. _They wouldn't understand_, Alicia thought to herself as she thought of Adam: his dimpled smile, deep laugh, tanned skin and dark hair and eyes.

"Did I go to far?" Anna said to no one but herself, thinking about how she had thrown Adam at Alicia's face like that. "She deserved it. She brought Jack into this. She had no right. She doesn't understand us. They don't understand us. _They wouldn't understand_. No, I needed to win. I need to win," She muttered to herself over and over again like a mad woman as she, too, retreated to her bedroom.

* * *

The only thing keeping Evgeni from throwing his cell phone against the wall was Oksana sleeping next to him. Evgeni slowly got out of bed, to pace. He needed to think.

She _couldn't_? What the hell was that supposed to mean? His hands balled into fists, he was clenching so hard that his finger nails left half-moons on his skin.

Why did he want her anyways? Was it because she was a ballerina? No, her ballet was never the reason for their attraction. Was it because she was beautiful? Yes. No. Yes and no. She was definitely pretty but that can't be the only reason. Oksana was quite sexy and there were plenty of other puck bunnies who were just as attractive, if not more. Was it because of her personality? Yes, she was so calm and sweet. She could soothe him by just touching his shoulder. He wanted her but these were just superficial. It wasn't getting to the core of the problem.

Perhaps he wanted her just because he wanted to share another night with her. Like the night before she left for Moscow. Yes. He did want another night of intimacy with her, another night of pure passion and pleasure. But he knew, if they did sleep together, it wouldn't be the same. What made that night special was that they were both showing each other how much they loved each other. It was more than just sex, it was making love. They were making love.

Evgeni thought back to when he first saw her at Flower's house. He thought he was hallucinating. There she was. Her hair was lighter, her eyes brighter, almost amber or topaz, she seemed different. She was different. She had this confidence in herself that she didn't have before. The way she stood up to Oksana, the Lana he knew in Russia would never have the guts to do that. She was so comfortable with herself and the men around her. She had Kris whispering in her ear, Max speaking to her in French and high-fiving her, Jordan with his arm wrapped around her, snuggling on the couch. Evgeni felt that familiar feeling again, that mixture of anger and, what was that last bit, jealousy?

_Bingo_! He was jealous. Why should I be jealous? He thought to himself. I was there first. I had her first. She loved me first. But if there's one thing hockey has taught him, it's not how you start but how you finish. Evgeni knew he messed things up with her and that he ruined it in one night. But it wasn't even entirely his fault, Evgeni tried to reason. When she left, he was a mess. He plunged himself into hockey and it paid off eventually. He was being drafted by the NHL. The night the Pens drafted him, he went out with his friends to party at a club, _Pyramid_. He didn't have the heart to celebrate, not without her. She was his biggest fan and supporter, outside of his parents. But then he saw Oksana. She was so different from Lana. Oksana was blonde, curvy, short, flirtatious and rambunctious. It was one vodka, two vodka, three vodka and next thing Evgeni knew, he was in the back of his car, with Oksana pinned beneath him, reaching for a condom in his wallet. If anyone should take the blame, it should be Svetlana. She left. She made him feel like crap, like he didn't deserve her.

Lies, he knew he was just feeding himself lies, but it made him feel better.

"_Zhenechka_, come back to bed," Oksana murmured in Russian as she groped for him on his side of the bed. His _Ksenya_, _Ksyusha_, _Oksanochka_. She looked so young now without her makeup on, without her mask. She put makeup on like a mask everyday, to guard herself from the world, the world that looked down on her. He could never bring himself to leave Oksana. She gave up everything for him. She left her family, divorced her husband, left her home. When she came to America, she didn't know a word of English and the only person she knew in America was him. Now look at them now, a Calder Memorial Trophy winner and a WAG playing house together in America.

His teammates never liked his dear _Oksanochka_. Evgeni could not understand why. They wouldn't understand their relationship, her sacrifices, his love. _They wouldn't understand_.

* * *

Jordan laid on his bed, his cellphone carefully balancing on his chest. He had just finished his nightly talks with Sveta. He couldn't help but feel how distant she was, like she was hiding something. And her voice. It was hoarse like she had been crying. She could be so secretive sometimes.

_I wish she would tell. I wish she knew that I would understand_, Jordan thought to himself.

He grabbed his cellphone and thought about calling his Mom. _Oh yeah, go call your Mommy_, he thought mockingly. Jordan wanted to take it slow, he needed to take it slow, for both of their sakes. He saw potential in Sveta. She could be the one to bring home to his family.

He didn't want to make mistakes. What happened if they kissed, touched, rushed into it? What if he didn't call her back? Proved all her friends right. Heck, proved all his friends right. And all this, all they had, would end in just one night. It would be a mess. It would be awful. He didn't want to lose Sveta like that.

Screw it. Whether he was called a pussy or not, he was going to call his Mommy. She would know what to do.

Who cares if his friends made fun of him for calling his Mom?

_They wouldn't understand_.

They didn't need to understand.


	21. Red Ribbon

Sorry for being so late on this! I had a last minute trip to LA that I had to make so I couldn't update. I hope you enjoy this chapter and take the time to review this chapter!

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Red Ribbon

How long had I been crying after talking to Jordan? I had no clue. Long enough for my throat to feel tight and hoarse, my eyes to burn, my lips to chap and my face to feel sticky.

It finally hit me that the man I thought I was going to spend my life with was just a stranger to me now. Or maybe he always had been.

Maybe I never knew the real Evgeni.

My eyes were burning with tears that I was desperately trying to hold back. I wasn't going to cry anymore, I decided. Crying wasn't going to bring Evgeni back to me. I'd cried enough tears for him. I was going to be happy. I deserve to be happy. I deserve to be with someone who makes me happy and loves me.

I crawled out of bed and pulled my suitcase out of my closet. I took it out and opened it. In the very bottom, underneath the extra pointes, underneath the makeup bag, underneath the jewelery box was a bundle of letters, pictures, and various mementos from Evgeni and I's relationship. It was all tied together with a red, satin ribbon. I pulled on end of the bow. It all unraveled.

The letters were the hardest to get rid of. My first year in Moscow, I was awful. My dancing was a mess, whether it was because I was terribly homesick or I missed Evgeni, I'm not sure. Only Evgeni's letters got me by. They reminded me that I was not only dancing for myself but for him, too. I read each letter again. I was trying to find for a sign. A sign of anything that would help me make sense of his betrayal. I tore the letters up, piece by piece, throwing them into the trash.

The photographs were easier. Except for one. There were two that I had particularly cherished and held close to my heart. It was Evgeni's first picture in his Metallurg Magnitogorsk uniform; the picture that would be used in his player profile. He looked so proud in his uniform. I was the first person he gave the picture to, before his mother or father. On the back of the picture was Evgeni's messy scrawl, "I'll remember you when you are a prima ballerina, if you remember me when I win the Stanley Cup. Love, Zhenya." He always asked me to call him Zhenya, but I never had the heart to. This too could not stay. It had to go. The other was the photograph of Evgeni and I by the lake. He had his arms wrapped around my waist and he was lifting me up off the ground, like it was nothing. We were smiling and happy. The sun made the photograph seem overexposed. It was Galina, Evgeni's sister, who took the photo. I loved this picture, how happy we looked and in love we were. Pictures are good at capturing moments in time. In that exact moment in time, I thought Evgeni and I were meant to be, soul mates. The edges of the picture were frayed. The deep creases made the paper delicate. Easier to tear. But I couldn't. I wiped a stray tear and carefully folded the picture back. I placed it in my wallet, not in the clear sleeve for pictures, not where I could readily see it but in the larger pocket for cash.

Perhaps the reason why I was able to get rid of the pictures so easily was that I imagined Evgeni in similar poses with Oksana. I could see other picture of him holding Oksana close to him. I could see Evgeni kissing her on the cheek. I could see him playing with her hair as she rested her head on his lap. But I could not see him holding Oksana the way he held me in that photograph. I could not see him looking at her with that same love and affection. I could not see him being that happy, with a smile that big, with her.

The little mementos were the easiest. I had convinced myself they were nothing but ordinary ticket stubs or pressed flowers. But the one thing I could not throw was the red ribbon. Evgeni had given me the ribbon before my first recital. I was crying about how I was cast in a large group where all the girls would be dressed identically. I was worried he wouldn't be able to see me that I would be lost in the sea of candy canes. He told me the red ribbon was for me to wear in my hair so that he will always know where I was and that I shouldn't cry anymore. I've always worn a red, satin ribbon in my hair for all my performances.

I decided that I wasn't going to throw away the ribbon. I was going to change it's meaning. Before, I wore that red ribbon for Evgeni, for him to see me, for him to notice me. Now, I was going to wear that red ribbon for me. I was going to wear it because I had the confidence to stand out. I was dancing for no one but me. The red ribbon would symbolize the change. The new me.

* * *

Anna, Alicia and I rode the bus to the Theatre in silence. The tension between the two usually jovial friends was thick. Usually, we would sit together, cramming into one row that was usually made for two. But today, we each sat on our own. Alicia in front of me, Anna behind me.

The silence continued when we reached the Theatre. On the schedule board, it was official. Anna was the lead in _The Glass Slipper_. The casting board, however, was not updated. On the casting board, Anna was still an ugly stepsister and Martha was still Cinderella. On the casting board, Anna was nothing but an alternate.

Alicia, Anna and I started stretching with the rest of our group, sans Martha. Her absence felt all the more real with Anna's blue pointe shoes peaking out of her bag. The blue pointe shoes Martha was going to wear in_The Glass Slipper_. Was. Anna will be wearing them now.

The void created a palpable unease among us. We chatted among each other but it was just idle chit-chat. No one dared bring up Martha or Anna's new role. Since Madame Stiefel arrived early, no one had to. The minute she entered the room, we had bolted to the barres.

I was absolutely exhausted and sleep-deprived but I danced with vigor and precision. I loved dancing and I was acutely aware of the longevity of a dancer's career, or lack of it. After all, I witnessed it first hand with my mother. She retired when she gave birth to me. She was 28. My grandmother danced until she was 35, when the arthritis set in. To me, it felt as though, if I weren't dancing every possible minute, I was wasting time. If I wasn't dancing, I was thinking about dancing; I was going over steps in my head, visualizing the routine, or humming the music. Perhaps that was what made my relationship with Jordan and, as much as I hate to say it, with Evgeni significant and special. When I was with them, I wasn't thinking about ballet.

After class, I had stage rehearsal with Charlie and Alejandro to test the lighting and the staging. Our number had been put right before Intermission, which is always a difficult position. By that time in the show, the audience feels anxious and jittery for the break, making it difficult for them to focus on the performance. Alejandro and I would have to work extra hard to captivate the audience. The rehearsal went achingly slow because it was stop and go, stop and go. Parts were done over and over so that the lighting crew could get the cues perfectly and Charlie wanted test out which lights best fit his vision. Finally, he settled on a dark blue lighting and the use of the spotlight. To me, the overall look of the lighting resembled the night. It looked like the night sky, at that magic hour when it bathed everything in a navy blue light and the moon shining it's opalescent glow. Or perhaps, it symbolized the cover for my character's adulterous affair and the spotlights showed the holes in that cover.

Lunch was, well, lunch. It was like a repeat of class, except we ate, where talked about anything but Anna and Martha. One would think with Anna going out for lunch, we would be more vocal with our opinions. Sadly, I was mistaken. It reached a point where we had actually talked about the weather and how it was getting colder. I wished that everyone would say what they wanted to say and get it over with. But no one dared be the one to bring up the taboo topic.

It would take me till the end of the day to realize that Anna was giving me the cold shoulder. She was just plain ignoring me. She always had her back to me and angled herself away from me. Whenever I would catch her gaze, Anna would look away or, worse, narrow her eyes at me and her jaw would tense. When I talked to her, she pretended like she did not hear me and walk away. I was blind and naïve then. I had convinced myself that she was simply stressed and tired over having to learn a new role in less than a month, in addition to the choreography for Curtain Call, unheard of in the States, apparently. In Russia, it was not uncommon for someone to learn a new role in three weeks notice with only oneself and a coach to help you.

Saturday was usually a relaxing day. It was usually a half day and we mainly focused on refining techniques and placement or we did pilates or yoga. I had barely toweled the sweat off my brow when Leah came rushing in.

"Mr. Orr wants to speak to you, Svetlana. Now!" She must have ran from Mr. Orr's office to the studio because she was out of breathe, with her words coming out it in huffs.

I quickly stuffed my towel and water bottle into my bag and tied my pointe shoes to the outside of my bag as. I followed Leah to Mr. Orr's office, "Is he mad?" I asked in hushed whisper.

Leah didn't say anything or give any signal that confirmed or denied my question. She just kept walking, her ponytail bobbing with each step. Leah was not in a featured role but she was an alternate. Being an alternate is perhaps the worst feeling, you are expected to learn the routines but not physically rehearse with the group. Being an alternate is like a slap in the face, it means you are good enough to play the role but not as good as the main cast. Being an alternate means you're just an afterthought, a just in case. Leah stopped abruptly when we reached the now ominous-looking door. Without a word, she kept walking. Walking, walking, walking till not even the soft shuffling of her shoes on the tile floor could be heard.

I took a deep breathe trying to calm my nerves. But not even the deep inhaling and exhaling could calm the butterflies fluttering nervously in my stomach. I placed my hand on the door knob and twisted it slowly. I pushed the door open.

"Ah, Svetlana, you're here. Please sit," Mr. Orr gestured to the empty seat in front of him.

The last time I was in his office was my first day in PBT. Then it seemed welcoming and warm but now I wasn't sure what to expect. I balled my hands into fists to keep them from trembling as I took a seat.

"We have something to discuss." With his hair streaked gray and his bristly mustache, he looked like anyone's uncle or father. Mr. Orr was a far cry from the Terrence in the ABT press photographs adorning the walls. His appearance, then and now, was deceptive of his power. The power he held over us. One minute you were a star and the next you could be sent to the back of the corps. It was all in his hands.


	22. WHIRL!

Hi! This is the new chapter! I hope you guys like it. It's a little shorter than normal but I wanted to split the chapters and let the next few scenes stand alone. Also, I'm going to be studying abroad in Germany for a year and I'm from Southern California so if you guys have any suggestions for warm, winter clothing (certain brands and models) I would appreciate it! Please review! _Whirl!_

He didn't seem mad. But then again, he didn't seem to dislike Anna.

"We do?" I asked. I may not have been calm on the inside but I was determined to at least look the part.

"Yes, we do. We, the Theatre in general, has been very impressed by your performance in rehearsals, as well as in class and in the Showcase. So, as artistic director of the Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre, I would like to congratulate you on being promot-"

Before Mr. Orr could even finish his sentence, the door burst open with a violent sound of wood slamming against stucco. Who opened the door with such force? Anna. She stood there seething, her chest heaving and her teeth gritting against each other.

"Anna, what are you doing here?" Mr. Orr took off his glasses and his eyes held a look of pure annoyance.

"You know! Both of you!" She shrieked. She was sweating, probably from running down here and from the exhausting rehearsal. She was wearing her favorite mint green leotard with the turtleneck and the open back. It was Saturday so she was allowed to wear it.

"Well, what is it?" The words rolled off my tongue slowly as if testing the waters.

"Don't act all sweet and innocent with me!" Anna growled. "You know exactly why I'm here!"

"I really don't," I looked towards Mr. Orr to see if he had any inkling of what was going on, but he kept his face as stoic and blank as ever.

Anna's face was flushed red with anger. Her straight rows of pearly white teeth were bared. Her arms looked ready to strike. Her mint green leotard suddenly seemed all the more appropriate as her narrowed eyes glinted with envy. She threw a magazine onto the desk. Jaw tense and fists balled, "This! This is why I'm here!"

It was a magazine called _WHIRL!_, one of the local magazines here in Pittsburgh- I only know this because Anna has the issues sent to the apartment. I was so tired and confused. I took in the colors of the cover languidly. The soft lighting that seemed to almost washout the entire cover. The model was balancing in a Y-scale position. One hand gripping the barre, the other holding her ankle. Her hair was thrown haphazardly into an unraveling bun, like she had been dancing for a long time and her hair was coming loose. Her face was in profile and her long, swan neck added to the ethereal cover. She was wearing a casual, white off-the-shoulder top that hung loosely on her willowy frame. It looked as if the exposed, razor-thin strap of her bra was exposed on accident. She wore only short shorts that were a printed, geometric pattern in varying shades of gray. Gray leg warmers covered her legs from the knee down. The bold, white font of the title was used for the subheadings. One of them reading "Raising the Barre: Svetlana Khitrova" in a smaller, finer print below it read, "_Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre's new star, Svetlana Khitrova, is adding a distinctive Russian flavor to the Steel City's art scene_."

I rubbed my eyes after reading the subheading. I looked back at the model. I followed the slope of her nose, the shape of her lips, the curve of her chin. The golden eyes looking far off into the distance. All the features were mine. I was on the cover. Vague memories of the photo shoot flashed into my mind. My mind felt like it was exploding, "I don't understand."

"I'm afraid neither do I," Mr. Orr said. "Anna, why are you here?"

"Isn't it obvious! She's working the casting couch. How else would she get the cover?" Her eyes were wild, "This was supposed to be a small piece focusing on the Company as a whole. Not a feature on PBT's mail-order bride!"

"What are you suggesting Anna?" Mr. Orr's voice was even, not a single hint of his widely known dislike of Anna.

"That she slept with the photographer!"

"What!" I exclaimed. How could she make such an outrageous claim? I thought we were friends. Were. "I did not sleep with the photographer!"

"Oh, then the editor? The writer? Who?" Anna's voice was full of accusations as she stared daggers at me.

"No one!" I looked to Mr. Orr but his face was still as stoic as ever.

"Anna," Mr. Orr's voice held an undertone of annoyance. "You have no grounds to make these sorts of accusations. You have no proof other than your own psychosis and if anything this reflects wonderfully on the Company. Being featured in a prominent magazine such as this one generates lots of publicity and interest in the Showcase and the upcoming season." His tone had a finality to it that meant both of us had to get out.

Now.


	23. Sure Thing

The new chapter! Thanks for the suggestions on winter clothing! I'm going shopping tomorrow and I'll be looking out for those brands. I had a hard time portraying this type of rivalry and relationship between Anna and Svetlana and I really didn't want to go _Black Swan_ extreme but I didn't want to make it subtle. I hope you liked it! Please review, nothing makes my day quite as much as seeing that I have new reviews!

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**Sure Thing**

The two of us walked out of Mr. Orr's office. I lagged behind Anna, still in a daze of what had happened. Did Anna really accuse of me of all those things? Did Anna really think I would do such things? Did Anna really want me to be punished for "my actions?"

I thought we were friends. Thought.

Much to my chagrin, when we arrived at the bus stop, the bus was nowhere to be seen. I sat on the cold iron bench, while Anna stood, leaning against the post. I wrapped my blush pink cardigan tighter around my torso, trying to ward off the chilly wind. "Why did you say those things about me?" I asked. I needed to know, what exactly would cause a person to say things about a friend.

"God! Stop acting so innocent and perfect. You know perfectly well why I did what I did. I did what I had to do," She had this look of victory on her face, a smugness in her features.

"You knew those things weren't true," Despite my efforts, I couldn't keep the hurt from seeping through my voice and in my face.

"So? It hurt your reputation and ruined your character," Anna said with a shrug of her shoulders.

"But, Mr. Orr. He didn't even believe you."

"Hmph, Maybe he did? Maybe he didn't? But, I really don't need him to believe me. All I needed was to plant that seed. He has a kernel of an idea, that inkling. He already knows about Jordan and, now, he has to be wondering what else you're doing on the side. He's probably sitting in his big, comfy chair staring at the cover wondering how exactly you got the cover." Anna dug through her bag and drew out a carton of cigarettes and a lighter.

"I thought we were friends," I looked down at the floor. Too embarrassed to look at her.

"You can stop with that sick puppy dog look, okay? It doesn't work on me. We weren't friends Svetlana. Just because we live together, doesn't mean we're friends. We're anything but. You came here with your perfect turnout, your great feet, your amazing natural ability and just became the star. I've been here forever. This is my Theatre, this is my Company, this is my City. You can't just come here and take that all away from me. I was a soloist, I was a principal, look at me now because of you. I'm stuck in the back of corps and you're in the spotlight. You're the beautiful princess and I'm just another ugly stepsister. Well, guess what, maybe this time, when the clock strikes 12, there's no glass slipper. Just plain Cinderella covered in rags."

Tears blurred my vision as the words sank in. The words that pierced me like a knife. What was worse was that Anna was being completely honest about the way she felt. She truly hated me. I stared at her casual form leaning against the post, smoking a cigarette. I wrinkled my nose at the smoke, "I didn't know you smoked."

"I guess you didn't know me, then," Anna blew smoke in my face with a smirk as the bus arrived. She looked back at me with an evil smile that reminded me of the evil stepmother. Except this time, the evil stepmother was beautiful and blonde and green with envy.

I didn't dare get on that bus with her. Not with that savage jealousy in her eyes. Not with the way her arms and hands were tightly coiled and ready to attack like a cat. Not with the Anna, I thought I knew, destroyed. Not with our friendship destroyed.

I didn't, even, dare to go back to the apartment. I once again felt like the lost little girl I was when I first arrived in Pittsburgh. A girl without a home and only a dream. Except now my dream was different.

I don't know how long I sat on that bench, how many buses came and went, how many people stared at me with odd looks. All I knew was that I couldn't go back to the apartment.

It all just sank in. Evgeni gone. Anna gone. Did I ever know those two? I guess not. Right now, I concluded, the only sure things in my life were ballet and Jordan.


	24. The Article

I tried a different style and approach with this chapter, so I'd love to hear your feedback. I patterned Svetlana's career after Polina Semionova and Kaitlyn Gilliland. I wanted to add another dimension and create the Sveta's back story. I hope you guys enjoyed it! Please review!

I have what I imagined the magazine spread to have looked like on my profile!

Also, I have a Sidney Crosby story in the works but I found a story similar to it posted on Mibba. Should I still post it?

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_The Article_

The locker room was always a place of controlled chaos. There were pads and jersey strewn about the floor. There were hockey sticks being taped. There were hockey players hustling and bustling, doing this and that, in the same pattern they've done since Tyke. Someone was always doing something. Everyone moving in an almost clockwork. Except for Jordan Staal.

Jordan Staal was sitting by his locker and despite the fact that practice had been over for over a half hour, his chest was heaving up and down, gulping in large, deep breaths. He was in deep thought, thinking about a million and one things, but one stood out above the others.

He could not get a svelte, Russian ballerina out of his mind. It didn't matter that the season was starting. What mattered, at least in Jordan's mind, was that he would be leaving Svetlana alone, when he went to Sweden. It didn't matter that the pressure was on to win a Stanley Cup. What mattered was that the Sweden trip wouldn't be his last trip away from Svetlana; there were road trips. Oh the road trips! Those 3, 5, 7 game road trips away from her seemed unbearable. But perhaps what mattered most to Jordan was that he wasn't even sure what the status of his relationship with Svetlana was.

Did he have the right feel this way? Of course, they were friends. But did he have the right to tell her that his heart skips a beat when she's near? Did he have the right to tell her that he's been calling home, asking his mom for advice about her? Did he have the right to tell her that they should be exclusive? Did he have the right to tell her wants her to be his girlfriend? In Jordan's mind, no, no, no and no.

His head was throbbing, whether it was from thinking about Svetlana or from the sheer exhaustion from the two-a-days, he wasn't sure. He shut his eyes, trying to block out the shuffling of feet, the laughter at bawdy locker room humor, the loud conversations about last night's exploits.

"You okay, Gronk?"

Jordan opened one eye, looking at the source of the voice. Tyler Kennedy. "Fine," Jordan responded in a huff as he started gathering his stuff into his duffel.

"How's Sveta?"

The question seemed innocent enough. How was she doing? But Jordan knew Tyler better than that. What Tyler really meant was: have you been friend-zoned yet? Have you had sex with her yet?

"She's fine," Jordan answered dully.

"Doesn't sound like things are all that great," Tyler added bluntly. "Haven't been able to get it in?"

Simple annoyance developed into a simmering anger. Jordan was ready to snap at Tyler, when his phone rang. Speak of the devil.

"Hello, Jordan?" Her voice sounded shaky, almost scared, like she was on the verge of tears.

"Sveta? Yeah it's me. What is it? What's wrong?" A million thoughts ran through his head, each one worse than the one before it. _I'm a hockey player, I'm fearless_. Except when it came to Sveta. Worry and fear racked through his body as he remembered the promise._I'm not going to let anything hurt you, ever_.

"I'm fine," Her voice cracked and sniffling could be heard, "Can you pick me up? I'm at the Theatre."

"Yeah, yeah, no problem. I'll be there as fast as I can."

She looked so fragile, so delicate was the line of her frail shoulders, so ethereal was the high cheekbones, the long, swan neck, the plump, red lips, the impossibly, bright gold eyes. She looked like one of the sylphs she portrayed on stage, light and airy, intangible.

Jordan did. He saw the sadness in her eyes, carefully veiled and masked away. He felt that familiar pang in his chest. The yearning for her to just tell him what was hurting her so much. _Why can't she just tell me? _

As much pain and hurt there was in her eyes, all of it seemed to disappear, when she saw looked up and saw his SUV. Her eyes sparkled with a happiness, and, perhaps, a sense of relief. A wide grin spread across those lips that Jordan wished to kiss over and over. It was real smile, too. Not one of those coy ones she gave to Max or Tyler. It was a smile that brought out her dimples and showed her teeth. Her eyes crinkled up at the corners and her whole face lit up. A special smile. A special smile just for him.

Svetlana sprung to her feet and dashed to his car, as if not wanting to be seen by anyone. "Thank you," Her voice was barely above a whisper. And with that quiet whisper, they were off. "Can I stay with you? Anna's," There was sharp intake of air, followed by a heavy sigh, "Anna and I are not on good terms, right now."

"Yeah, yeah, sure thing." Jordan's chest heaved as he let out a frustrated sigh. He scratched the back of his neck. He paused and took a deep breath as if he was preparing to get punched in the stomach, "Just tell me already."

"Wh-what?"

"Just tell me what's wrong. Be honest with me."

* * *

_Be honest with me_.

Evgeni. How desperately I wanted to tell Jordan about Evgeni. I needed to tell him. But I couldn't . How can I tell him that I came to Pittsburgh for Evgeni? That I loved Evgeni for all my life? Would I ever be able to make him understand that you don't just loving something? You don't give your entire life to someone and just stop thinking about him- stop loving him.

"Tell me," His voice broke her thoughts. "Tell me."

"It's Anna," I lied, lying became easier and easier the longer I was in America. Well this wasn't exactly lying, I guess. I mean Anna was contributing to my awful mood. "I thought she was my friend. I thought I knew her. But I guess I didn't. I never did."

"Is it 'cause of the magazine cover?"

"You saw that!"

"The whole city has seen it," Jordan gestured to the back seat, where a stack of magazines laid. "And soon enough, my family will too."

My cheeks warmed to a pink flush as Jordan flashed his typical mischievous grin. "Why?"

"I enjoy embarrassing you," Just his jaunty smile would have made me blush, "Besides, why wouldn't I want my family to know that I'm friends with a big-shot ballerina?"

"That's exactly why I lost a friend," I added gravely. My eyes casted downward and bit my lower lip. "Or maybe never had one. Anna tried to sway me out of Mr. Orr's favor. She made up these awful lies and-"

"Don't worry about it, Sveta. When girls like Anna hate you, it's just whatever, you know? So what, if she doesn't like you. It doesn't really matter. Her hating you doesn't make her a better dancer, or you a worser one," The car eased to a stop.

"Thank you, for everything," I smiled as Jordan threaded his arm through mine while we walked to his apartment.

"Don't mention it," Jordan winked playfully. Some how with me still pressed to his side, Jordan was able to unlock the door. Suddenly, I felt very aware of the closeness of our bodies. I was aware of how his body felt like marble against mine. I was aware of how my knees felt weak with his arm wrapped around my waist. I was aware of how I didn't want to tear myself away from him.

It felt odd. The whole ritual of getting ready for bed, in Jordan's apartment, in Jordan's clothes, with Jordan. It felt oddly comfortable. The way we moved in an almost clockwork pattern, each of us taking just the right amount of time so that the other wasn't left waiting. It was as if this was a pattern we had perfected over years together, when it had only been months.

What was even more odd? How we both climbed into bed together, no questions asked. No 'I'm sleeping on the couch's or 'I'm the guest, I'll sleep on the couch's. We just slid under the covers and laid there, completely warm and comfortable.

"I'm going to do some light reading before I go to bed," Jordan announced as he plucked something from off his night stand.

In the fluorescent light of his lamp, I could easily make out the cover. It was, of course, the latest copy of WHIRL! "Really! Do you have to?"

"Of course I have to," Jordan flipped through the glossy pages of the magazine finding the article with ease. After making a great show of clearing his throat, he began to read the article aloud: "In the minimalistic, rehearsal rooms of the Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre, Sveltana Khitrova's captivating femininity and girlish spontaneity are reminiscent of a young Audrey Hepburn. Tall and thin with weightless limbs and an elongated torso, she draws attention to herself with her strong technique, luxuriant musicality, and supple, easy grace.

Making predictions about a dancer's future can be a tricky business. But even in the mundane, repetitive motions of barre work, she emits an unmistakable aura. Apart from the obvious-she's tall, attractively thin, with long, expressive limbs, a graceful neck, and a face Raphael would dream of painting-the wisdom of what she conveyed onstage seems positively preternatural. Flickering memories of past Russian ballerinas came to mind: the joyous musical phrasing and innocence of the young Anna Pavlova; an elongated, eloquent torso similar to Uliana Lopatkina's; and a mysterious allure uncannily reminiscent of Galina Ulanova. Beyond a rare coupling of vulnerability and technical confidence, Khitrova allows her sixth sense of the ballet's dramatic subtext, prompting plenty in the audience to fantasize about the possibilities ahead for this nascent ballerina.

While only 21 years old, under the artistic direction of Terrence Orr, Khitrova has a surprising maturity. In 2001, she received the junior division gold medal at the First International Ballet Competition in Moscow. In 2002, she won the junior division first prize in the Nagoya International Ballet Competition, and the gold medal at the Vaganova Prix in St. Petersburg.

Khitrova's talent arrives with an impressive pedigree. Her mother, Aliya Kapranova, was a beloved soloist with the Bolshoi Ballet and guested with the American Ballet Theatre and the New York City Ballet, and a hand-picked favorite of George Balanchine during her tenure in New York while reuniting with former partner Mikahil Baryshnikov. Khitrova's maternal grandmother, Svetlana Bessonova, was on-stage and good friends with Natalia Dudinskaya and Galina Ulanova. Bessonova would also go on to coach stars like Maya Plisetskaya and Natalia Makarova. Makarova would, coincidentally, coach Khitrova, with fellow amazonian ballerina, Uliana Lopatkina. Khitrova's fraternal grandmother, Vera Khitrova, was too a dancer, but she would become famous not for her on-stage performances but for her off-stage ones. When she defected from the Soviet Union to England with the help of Margot Fonteyn, the drama would make headlines with the famous pictures of Vera holding on to her son Valeri, Khitrova's father who was only a toddler then, as she left the Soviet Embassy with Margot Fonteyn on her left and Rudolf Nureyev on right. Going back even further, Khitrova's maternal great-grandmother developed a deep friendship with Anna Pavlova and would play muse to Marius Petipa and Michel Fokine, with several roles being made just for her. Two generations are not uncommon in mother-daughter dance careers, but four generations is more than rare. Watching the energy in Khitrova's long, feminine back, the focus of her gaze, and the reach of her port de bras right through to her hands, it is easy to spot her lineage.

"My theatrical life has always been full of unexpected but happy occurrences," says Khitrova, who graduated from the Bolshoi Academy in 2002. It seems that Khitrova was the only one surprised when she broke the records for scores on her graduation exams. After her second year with the Bolshoi Ballet, Khitrova received invitations to join the The Kirov Ballet, Paris Opera Ballet, The Royal Ballet and Berlin's Staatsoper unter den Linden. "I chose Pittsburgh because it was like home. My hometown of Magnitogorsk was based on the city plans of Pittsburgh. The repertoire had a mix of modern and classical ballet, which allows me to fully explore my artistic capabilities" she says.

"I always wanted to be a dancer," Her sweet shyness appearing, "That dream is not uncommon, every girl in Russia dreams of being a ballerina at one point in her life. For some the dream does not always come true." But a ballet career always seemed to be in the stars for Khitrova. At 6 years old, she dreamed of attending the famous Bolshoi Academy, like all the women in her family, and prayed that she would get in. Khitrova's mother would coach her until she was accepted into the school. "My parents never pushed me but dance came naturally to me. Mama always talks about when I was a baby and a piece from Tchaikovsky's _Swan Lake_drifted in from an open window. According to her, I went into this trance and started moving to the music."

"I was always tall for my age, by the time I was 10, I was almost too tall for the Academy." she adds. "I was lucky, at the same time I was auditioning another boy had come in Ilya Kuznetsov and he was quite tall as well. Also, tall ballerinas were becoming quite fashionable.' Fashionable in deed. With Uliana Lopatkina guiding her, Khitrova made use of her long, slender limbs. While she lacks the quickness of her smaller counterparts, Khitrova has a fluidity and fragility. Under Natalia Makarova's tutelage, Khitrova made use of her womanly curves. 'When she dances, you see a woman. Not a young waif playing a princess but a true lady. She is somehow both real and fantasy, innocent yet sensual,' Makarova remarked. Though she may never play the role of young Clara in _The Nutcracker_, you can easily imagine in _Don Quixote_ or _Manon_.

Terrence Orr, artistic director of PBT, first spotted Khitrova in ballet class in Russia. He was visiting old friends at the Bolshoi Academy. "From the first moment I saw her, I thought her line was beautiful," says Orr. "And I just understood she was a ballerina. A true artist." Even though Sofia Golovkina, Khitrova's teacher and the director of the academy until her death in March, tried to draw his attention to another student, Orr could not take his eyes off of Khitrova.

Orr is not the only one mesmerized by Khitrova's willowy limbs and graceful demeanor. "It was meant to be a small piece, focusing on the Company as a whole," describes Elle Wintour, editor-in-chief here at _WHIRL!_, "But once I saw the pictures, my eye was immediately drawn to her." As John Testino recalls, "It was a terribly frustrating day. Dancers were coming in-and-out so fast that sometimes we weren't getting the shots we needed. I remember shooting Svetlana vividly, though. She was the absolute last dancer to be shot. The lighting was quite bad as the sun was setting and I was quite irritated and tired from the day. But when she came in, it was magic. The awful lighting seemed to suddenly work. It gave her this ethereal, floaty quality and she just glowed. I rarely say this, but I felt that Svetlana and I were making art."

Though Golovkina may not have been sweet on Khitrova, Bolshoi artistic director Vladimir Malakhov valued Khitrova's professional readiness and artistic individuality so highly that during her first season with the Bolshoi, he gave her lead roles in _The Nutcracker_ and _La Bayadère_, one of her favorite ballets. During her second season, Khitrova danced The Young Lady in _The Young Lady and the Hooligan_the role she has grown to love above all others. "I danced The Young Lady with such enjoyment," she says. "There is so much to work on in that part."

Onstage Khitrova is an actress beyond her years, and the interplay of light and shadow on her face highlights the details of her performance. "Kuznetsov is a very emotional artist," says Khitrova. "As a result, I am very different when I am with him. I am much more emotional than with other partners."

"I'm amazed they [the Bolshoi] let her escape and it will be fascinating to see how she develops," says Orr.

Ballet lovers can look forward to seeing Khitrova's career unfold in the Steel City."

"That was nice," I said plainly. It felt odd hearing my quotes read back to me. It felt odd hearing my story in such a way. The emphasis they put on my heritage put me back where I did not want to be. In my family's shadow.

"There are some cool pictures in here. Like one of you doing this split jump and stuff, it looks like you're floating. Wanna see?"

"No thank you. It's alright. What did you think of the story?"

"It was nice," He mocked, "But it was a little boring."

I may not have liked the story or the attention particularly much but boring? He basically called me entire career nothing but a snooze. "Boring! Really?"

"Yeah, I mean I already knew all this stuff about you. You were too tall. You came from a family of ballerinas. Your dad grew up in England. Your mom danced in the US. You love _La Bayadère_. You grew up in Magnitogorsk," His smirk grew, "In fact there are some other things they should have included too. Like how your dimples come out when you smile. Or how your hair smells like strawberries," His face came dangerously close to mine. He paused as he inhaled, "Or how your eyes aren't really gold at all but flecks of gold, amber, and bronze mixed together to form gold. Or how your lips are softer than anything," His lips brushed against mine, chastely. Then our kisses grew hungrier, deeper. Jordan pulled away, "Or how I'm hopelessly in love with you."


	25. That Guy

I'm sorry that I've been MIA. I'm currently studying abroad in Germany and it's been hard to write or update with culture shock and what not. I'm going to try and update more often. If you have any questions about study abroad or anything, feel free to ask! Please review!

* * *

That Guy

_I'm __hopelessly __in __love __with __you. _

The words echoed in my mind as I lay in the arms of the man, who just said them.

He just admitted that he loved me.

But did I love him?

Of course I love him.

Not only that, I'm in love with him. But it was never a matter of whether I love him or not. It's a matter if I was ready for a relationship, with that level of commitment. Was I ready to give him everything, my heart, my body, my love, given everything that has happened with Evgeni? I needed time. Time to forget Evgeni, if that was possible. Time to get over Evgeni. But how many times could I keep using that card and the more times I used it, the more tattered that card became.

I rolled onto my side and stared at Jordan. Here I was lying in Jordan Staal's bed and I was thinking about Evgeni Malkin. If the circumstances were different, I might have chuckled. The way the full moon cast it's light on his face made even more handsome, if that was possible. He looked more innocent with his long lashes sweeping against the high cheekbones of his serene face. I couldn't resist kissing his cheek before cuddling against him and slipping into a peaceful slumber.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Jordan exclaimed, stretching out the 'o' in morning.

My eyelids felt heavy as I struggled to open them. Bright sunlight streamed in through the open windows. After blinking away the sleep, I saw that the room had been decorated with colorful streamers and confetti and Mylar balloons. "What's going on? Did a disco ball explode?" I asked as I sat up.

Jordan let out a hearty laugh, and with barely concealed glee, "Happy birthday!"

"How- how did you know?" I asked in complete shock.

"20 questions, duh," He said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "How wasted were you that night?" Jordan teased as he produced a neatly-wrapped, ivory box and placed it in my lap.

I held the box in my hands, "You really didn't have to get me a present," I began.

"I wanted to. Now open it," He smiled broadly as I nodded.

Tearing off the delicate wrapping paper, it revealed a tin box. I looked up at Jordan with questioning eyes.

"Go on," He nodded, encouraging me.

I took off the lid and inside was a beautiful watch. It was made of white ceramic and had rose gold detailing on the face, numbers and hands. "Oh, Jordan it's perfect," I cooed as I slipped it on my wrist.

"You said you wanted time," His voice was soft and earnest. Gone was the teasing glint in his eyes, gone was the smirk, all that was there was Jordan, sweet Jordan.

"You're too good to me," I smiled broadly as I felt tears of happiness, joy and love pricking my eyes.

"Thank you."

"Well, your welcome. Now what does the Birthday Princess want to do today?"

"I want to go to the Z-" I paused and thought about it, "The apartment."

"You want to go to the apartment? That's pretty boring."

"I need to pick up some clothes. Not all of them but enough to last until this whole Anna/Whirl! thing blows over."

"About that. What if you brought all your clothes here?"

"Well, that would be hassle when I had to go back."

"No, I mean," Jordan laughed at my obliviousness, "What if you moved in with me?"

"I don't know Jordan, this is all so-"

He cut me off, "It sounds crazy, trust me, I know. I only met you three months ago but I feel like I've known you forever. Think about it, moving in with me is maybe the best option. It's definitely the safest and funnest. Anna, by the way you described it, is clearly off her rocker and is after you. I, mean, she's verging on Glenn Close in _Fatal __Attraction_. So who knows what she'll do?"

"I need you to answer one question before I say yes or no to this."

"What? Ask me anything," Jordan said with his chest puffed out and an air of confidence and bravado.

"What are we? I don't like putting labels on anything. But what are we?" I desperately needed to know this. One minute we were telling everyone we are just friends and then last night we kissed. It felt like we were in this limbo, a place between being "just friends" and being a couple. I needed to know what he thought because no matter what I thought we were, if it wasn't mutual, it didn't matter.

"We're not only friends, at least I don't want to be. I told you last night that I love you and I mean it. I want you to be my girlfriend. I want you to be at my games wearing my jersey. I want you to be the one I bring to Thunder Bay for Christmas. I want you to be the girl to put my brothers' girlfriends to shame. I want you to be the last thing I see when I go to bed and the first thing I see when I wake up. I know not all of this can happen now but I want it to. Later. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow but later."

The look in his eyes was earnest and sweet. I could feel the guilt eating away at me. The guilt came from so many places. The way he was so honest and kind to me, when I was holding back so much. I wanted to so badly tell him about Evgeni, but I couldn't. I couldn't ruin what we had. I felt so guilty about making him wait. "The last relationship I was in was," I paused as I struggled for the right words to say, "It was serious. He was my first, my last, and, I thought, my only. I thought I was going to marry him. I want us to work. I don't want this to be a rebound. I want to do this the right way." My hands twisted nervously in my lap as I cast my eyes downward to the floor. I hesitantly looked up into his blue eyes, scared to meet them as if he would be able to see the truth in my eyes. "When we broke up, I was a mess. I was more than heartbroken. It felt as if anything and everything I thought I knew was a lie. I don't want to be hurt like that again. People have said things," I stopped, hoping Jordan would know where I was going, hoping that I wouldn't have to say it out loud, but his face was stoic. "They say you have a reputation," I gulped, "A reputation for being a lady killer, a playboy. I don't want to be played, Jordan. I don't think I could handle that, not again."

"I don't think I ever told you what happened the day we first met."

I was silent.

Jordan continued, "I had a revelation that morning. I woke up hung over. I felt nauseous and thirsty, it was a really bad hangover. I got a text, 'Hey, you. Fun meeting you last night." Naturally I texted back and with very little work I had a date that night. But there was one problem. I had no idea who she was. I could only remember dancing at some trendy club, meeting some girls, getting numbers and maybe making out with someone. I could only recall that maybe she had long hair.

"I looked through my phone's address book. Some new, some old. Two Meghans. Two Megans. Plenty of Saras and Sarahs. Nikki, Nicki, Nicky. I found myself thinking: Who were these women? When? Where? Why? The more I scrolled through, the more disgusted I was with myself. Newark girl, Philly Girl, Section 407 Girl, Pucky Bunny 3. I started deleting names as fast as I could. I became That Guy and I hated it.

"I told myself that I was done being That Guy. I texted that girl back and canceled. I realized that I needed to change. I didn't want random hookups and swore off one-night stands but it wasn't like this was my first time saying those things. I'd said it so many before. This time, though, when I was going for a walk, wandering the streets of Pittsburgh, I saw you and I knew it was fate. It was a sign.

"I guess what I'm just trying to say is that this is going to work. I know what your friends must say and what other people have told you but I'm not That Guy anymore. I'm not just ready for a serious relationship. I'm ready for a serious relationship with you."


	26. Uncharted

Thanks for the reviews! They truly do keep me motivated to write. Germany is great but I find that my English is getting worse from speaking so much German. So if there are mistakes please tell me! This also a very fluffy chapter. Just a warning.

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Uncharted

I didn't know what to say. What are you supposed to say after a person just told you they want a serious relationship and you're just not ready? I could only stare at him in disbelief, lips parted and eyes wide, as he recounted the day I met him.

"Well, I'm going to let you change and we can head out to get your stuff." Jordan gave me a small smile before leaving the room.

At that moment in time, being alone was the last thing I wanted. It left me alone with all my thoughts and emotions and it just felt like too much. It felt like if I wasn't doing something those thoughts and emotions were going to overwhelm me and take over. I found my duffel bag and pulled out some of the extra clothes I kept in there. I changed into a soft, pastel pink sweater and a pair of black leggings.

When I walked out of the room, I was shocked to see how the rest of the apartment was decorated with confetti, balloons and streamers. On the usually blank white wall that the TV hangs on were the large, neon-bright colored letters "HAPPY BIRTHDAY SVETA!" What else could I say but "Wow"?

"It's your birthday. We're celebrating your life, the day you were born. Think of it like Christmas but instead of celebrating Jesus's birth, we're celebrating your's. It's Sveta-mas!" Jordan said cheerfully as he grabbed his keys. "Let's go?"

I nodded as we made our way out of the apartment. I couldn't help but smile as we started driving.

It wasn't really my style, all the flamboyance, but the effort, time and money Jordan put into it was just so sweet. He must have woken up early just to put all the decorations up. My eyes drifted to the watch on my wrist. My wrist unaccustomed to the weight of it. My mind and heart unaccustomed to the weight of it.

"_You __said __you __needed __time_."

I did. I did say that and I do. But how much time? A day? A week? A month? A year? The more important question was how long would Jordan be able to wait before he gets fed up. The truth is that I didn't want to wait. I didn't want to need time. I wanted to be able to love Jordan whole-heartedly. I wanted to be in a completely committed relationship with Jordan. I didn't want this to be a rebound. I want Jordan and I to work and to work now.

"Jordan, I'm scared." It finally sank in just how much Anna hated me, what she could do to me, what she will do to me, and it terrified me. I involuntarily shuddered as I remembered the horror stories that I had heard of alternates pushing dancers down the stairs to become the lead or dancers ruining other girl's costumes to get an edge in competitions. But a little part of me was scared of something else entirely. There was a part of me that was scared where Jordan and I were going. We're going into uncharted territory. This was completely different than Evgeni. This was completely unknown.

"Scared of what?" A mixture of worry and confusion could easily be read in his voice.

"Of Anna, of everything," I tried to find the words to express just how I felt without hurting his feelings but nothing came out. I just sat there with my lip slightly parted. "I guess- I think-" I sputtered out as I tried to describe the ineffable fear that clouded my thoughts.

Jordan took his eyes off the road and looked at me with those eyes, those sympathetic blue eyes. His right hand left it's usual place on the steering wheel to hold mine. Our fingers wove together and interlocked. "Everything's going to be okay. You just have to trust in the fact that things will get better," Jordan voice soothed me.

I couldn't help but smile. "You're too good to me, Jordan."

"Nah," Jordan shook his head, "I'm not good enough."


	27. So What?

**SORRY!**

I'm currently doing a study abroad program in Germany and I had like zero time to update! I'm trying something new where I'll be updating more often with shorter, more manageable chapters. Tell me what you think about this chapter and the story as a whole. Feedback and comments are much loved!

Please forgive me!

* * *

**So What?**

"Nah," Jordan shook his head, "I'm not good enough."

My cheeks warmed to a color similar to my pink sweater. Everything felt so comfortable and right. I was slightly disappointed when the car eased to a stop in front of my apartment. I looked out the window to see Robinson in his usual place, scribbling in his usual notebook. Staring at the old brick building, it felt odd to think I was leaving it. I had only lived there for a few months but it had slowly become my home.

I sucked in a large breathe, filling my lungs with all the air and confidence I would need. "Now or never, right?" I asked, my insecurity and hesitation peeking through. The thought of going up to the apartment and possible facing Anna on my own was daunting.

"Now or never," Jordan agreed. "Don't worry, I'll be with you the whole time." The way he spoke left no room for arguing or negotiating.

Once we got out of the car, Jordan draped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. My body was flush against his, so close that I could feel the warmth of his body pressed against mine.

"Hello, there Miss Khitrova," Robinson greeted me as Jordan and I walked past him, "And you there Mr. Staal."

I was shocked at his cordial warmth, especially since I have Jordan with me, which is most definitely breaking one of Mr. Orr's rules. "Hi Robinson," I tried to match his tone.

"I heard what happened with Miss Anna, and I hope you are pleased to know that Miss Anna has not come back since leaving last night at around 10. Miss Alicia left earlier this morning, as well." There was a hint of graveness, an inflection I was not used to hearing from the usually stoic Robinson. This was the most emotion I had seen from him since the warning he gave me on my first night in Pittsburgh.

"I'm glad. I'm moving out. I don't think it's a good idea for me to be staying here, with the whole Anna situation."

"I understand, I will notify Mr. Orr. And who will you be staying with? Mr. Staal?" Reverting back to the Robinson I knew, his voice held a judgmental overtone. The way he drawled "Mr. Staal" made me moving in with Jordan seem like the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"Yes, she will be staying with me," Jordan answered tersely, obviously having picked up Robinson's tone. "Now, if you excuse us, we have some packing to do." And with that we left the lobby and headed for the elevators.

"So you're in moving in with me, now?" Jordan asked. "It's official? Can I post it on my FaceBook?"

"Do you even have a FaceBook? And yes, I decided that I want to move in with you. It seems like the best choice now and in the long run."

"No, but if I did, I would post about my new roommate."

"Do you realize that the last time you were in this elevator you were meeting me for our first date?" I asked teasingly as the elevator doors closed.

"Could you even call that a date? What did you call it? A payback dinner?" Jordan laughed as the soft elevator music played.

"Yeah, I think I did, which didn't even make sense since I practically had to beg you for me to pay the bill." I laughed and I laid my head on his shoulder, "That was my first night in America and I don't think I could of asked for a better one."

"You obviously have never been to Disneyland," Jordan teased.

The soft dings stopped and the elevator doors opened to Alejandro. I inwardly groaned as the cocky, confident Latino strutted into the elevator.

"Svetlana," Alejandro said, his curiosity piqued undoubtedly by the professional hockey player next to me. "I didn't think you were a rebel," A smirk that made my skin crawl crept across his lips.

"Alejandro," I gave him a curt nod.

"I heard about the whole Anna situation. She's always been kind of psycho, sort of had this Showgirls-mentality. Didn't really surprise me, sucks that it was you though." Alejandro eyed Jordan like a fighter sizing up his opponent during a weigh-in. Jordan had a few inches over Alejandro and at least 30 pounds on him, too. In short, if Alejandro and Jordan ever got into a fight, the advantage would have to go to Jordan.

"I'm actually moving out because of it," I chimed, in a vain attempt to break up the staring- glaring contest between the two.

"That explains the muscle," Alejandro showed flashes of envy as he played with his carton of cigarettes.

I felt Jordan tense against me, his muscles flexing, eyes narrowing, like a cat ready to pounce. I gave his hand a small squeeze, trying to calm him down.

"Jordan, Jordan Staal," Jordan extended his hand towards Alejandro.

Alejandro stared questioningly at his hand before accepting the handshake, "Alejandro Diaz. I'm Svetlana's pas de deux partner," The way Alejandro put emphasis on being my pas de deux partner suggested a sort of intimacy between us that went beyond the stage.

"Nice to meet you. I'm the boyfriend. The one she's moving in with," Jordan countered coolly. He seemed so nonchalant and relaxed with his trademark smirk, with a touch of smugness this time.

The elevator doors opened to my floor and I breathed a sigh of relief. "Bye, Alejandro. See you on Monday." Jordan and strolled out of the elevator, hand in hand.

"Yeah, see you on Monday," Alejandro stumbled over the words, still stunned from Jordan's statement.

It was hard not to laugh at seeing Alejandro stunned to silence. Once the doors closed, I couldn't stop giggling at Alejandro's reaction. "You know by Monday class, everyone will know that we're an item," I pointed out as I unlocked the door to the apartment. It was odd but I wanted everyone to know that Jordan and I were together, that we were an item, that we were boyfriend-girlfriend. Even if I wasn't completely comfortable with the idea yet. Even if we weren't officially calling ourselves that.

"So?" Jordan replied with a smile and a wink.

"You're right, so what," I said slowly savoring the way the words felt on my tongue. Something about it felt so right and refreshing.

_So what. _

_This was such a new perspective for me. _

_So what._

_ It doesn't matter what people think. As long as I'm happy, __so what._


	28. With You

SORRY!

I just got back from my study abroad and I finally got settled down enough to start updating this. I promise I'll start updating regularly!

Please forgive me!

* * *

With You

"Is this where the magic happens?" Jordan asked as he flopped onto my bed, still neatly made from the morning before.

I could only blush at his insinuation but, luckily, I was able to hide it by turning around and focusing on trying to find my suitcase.

"So this is the infamous bedroom. Hmm, looks better in person," Jordan eyes scanned the room.

"Infamous? Looks better in person?" I asked, finally locating my suitcase in the back of my closet. "Where did you see it, in the first place?"

"On YouTube. Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre made a YouTube channel and I am one of 200 subscribers. They posted a Cribs special of all the dancers' apartments and houses. From what I can tell, practically all of you guys live in this building," Jordan got up from my bed to peruse the room at a much finer detail.

"I think the Company owns a few floors of this building so they're able to subsidize it to us for free," I explained as I start piling clothes into the worn, brown leather suitcase.

"Interesting," Jordan commented as he finished peeking inside the drawers of my wardrobe and inspecting underneath my bed.

"What's interesting?"

"This place is neat, too neat," Jordan said, impersonating a film noir PI. "Aha!" He exclaimed as he looked into the trashcan.

My stomach dropped. My throat dried. My heart slammed against my ribs. The man I wanted to have a future with was rummaging through the trashcan, that I had dumped my past into, my past with Evgeni. I resisted the urge to snatch the trashcan from his hands.

Jordan began picking through the contents of the trashcan with a pair of tongs he took from the kitchen. Occasionally, he would make a great show of picking something out and examining it before dropping it back into the bin.

"Find anything interesting?" I tried my best to keep my voice even. I held my breath as I waited for his response.

"Hmph," Jordan sighed, "Nope just some letters and stuff in Russian. I guess it's true."

"What's true?" I asked, finally able to exhale and my heartbeat to calm down.

"That you have absolutely no dirty laundry or skeletons in your closet," Jordan said with a smile before crouching beside me. "Is that you?" He asked as he picked up the scrapbook that was peeking out of the front pocket of my suitcase. It was a small notebook that featured a portrait that was done of me on the cover. The portrait was a very dramatic, black and white photograph from the bust line up. I was wearing my costume from _Swan Lake, _but the focus was not on me but on my shadow. The shadow that was formed by the delicate lines of my port de bras_._

"Yes," I breathed, "I didn't even remember packing this. It's a little scrapbook my mama made me. It shows how ballet has run through our family. It begins with my great-grandmother and ends with my career." My voice came to a hush as I opened the scrapbook to the first page. The first page had an old, yellowed, black and white photograph of my great-grandmother in full costume from _Raymonda. _I flipped through the pages, showing the stages of my career as a young dancer to my last years with the Bolshoi. The last few pages were blank, ready to be filled with my story and the story of my little girls, who would continue to legacy. "I guess she wanted to remind me of the standard I was to live up to."

Jordan took the book from my hands and began looking through the pages, carefully examining each picture as if trying to memorize every detail.

I resumed my packing, not wanting to forget anything. It felt odd to say goodbye to the apartment that had been my first home in Pittsburgh. It seemed irrational to have such a connection to this small room with the seafoam walls and the adjoining bathroom that I had only lived in for a short time but when were feelings ever rational. After packing everything up, I was cleaning up my vanity and I found myself staring at a Polaroid that was taken of Anna, Leesha and I during the Auditions. We were sitting in a group on the floor of the stage stretching. The combination of the flash from the Polaroid and the stark stage lights washed out our faces, making our stage makeup standout. Evan caught us off guard and we all had this doe-eyed look with our mouths open. There was this camaraderie in the way were positioned and how we looked. We looked like friends, but not just friends but friends who have known each other for years. It seemed like there was this whole sub-story behind the photo. A story that didn't exist because of jealousy, anger and ambition.

"No way!" Jordan exclaimed, pointing eagerly at a photograph in the book. I quickly joined him on the bed to see what had piqued his interest in such a way. "Is that you? As a kid?"

It was a picture of me, when I was at least four. I was sleeping wearing my ballet leotard and clutching a wand that was topped a gold sequin star. "Yeah, it is. I loved ballet so much that I didn't want to take off my leotard. That wand was a prop from a recital I did." I smiled inwardly, reminiscing of simpler days. "I'm done packing. We can go, now."

"And now the real fun begins," Jordan teased as he lifted my suitcase with ease. "Where do you wanna go next?" He asked as we headed out of the apartment.

"The zoo!" I exclaimed, "I hear the Pittsburgh Zoo is amazing!"

"The zoo it is."

* * *

"Look it's you!" I pointed excitedly at the penguins. I felt like a child again, running around, pointing at animals, pressing my face against the glass.

Jordan laughed at the stout, waddling birds. "I hope you think I'm better looking than that."

"You look more like that one," I pointed at penguin with a flamboyant plume of bright yellow and black. "He's a show off."

"Maybe he's showing off so he can get the girl," He teased. "That one" Jordan pointed at a small, sleek penguin diving into the water and gliding through the water with an ease and grace, "is you."

"Okay, you are a southern rockhopper penguin and I am a magellenic penguin," I read from the placard, stumbling over the words, my finger underlining the information.

"Sounds 'bout right," Jordan said and started to read off the plastic placard, his hand covering mine as he underlined the white, engraved words on the navy blue plastic. "We both happen to be indigenous to the South American region."

"Is that right?" I smiled, liking the feeling of my hand in his.

"Yup, that's right. After all, I am a Penguin," He said with a cheeky grin. "Now, where to next, birthday princess?"

"To the polar bears!" I exclaimed enthusiastically as I grabbed Jordan's hand and ran off in the direction of the polar bears. We entered a long walk-through tunnel, which ran through a large tank of water. It was dark and cool. It felt like we entered another world. I pressed my face up against the glass as a polar bear swam past us. I couldn't help but smile, when I saw Jordan doing the same. "This is amazing," I breathed.

"It is. Isn't it?" I didn't know it then but when he said those words, he wasn't looking at the polar bears or the sea otters or the sharks. He was looking at me.

"I wonder what they think about," I whispered as if the sound of my voice would break the spell, "Do you think they mind us watching them?"

"Who knows?" Jordan's hand was touching mine as we both grasped the handrail.

"I like polar bears. I think they're my favorite." I took Jordan's hand in mine as we stood there, surrounded by people but feeling as if we were the only ones in the whole world.

"Do you like them better than Penguins?" Jordan joked.

"I suppose that depends on the Penguin," I said with a small, coy smile. I was about to say something else but a little boy no older than 7 began tugging on the hem of Jordan's shirt.

"Hi, J-Jordan St-Staal. I'm Mitch and you're my idol. I place center, too, and I was born in Thunder Bay, too, but I moved here when I was 3. I wish you guys won last year and not the stupid Red Wings. But I know you'll win it this year. I just know it! D-do you think my mom can take a picture of me and you?" There was nothing but adoration in Mitch's big, green eyes.

Jordan ruffled Mitch's red hair, "Sure, kid." Jordan crouched down next to Mitch and Mitch's mother took the picture. "Why don't I sign something for you, too?"

"Would you? Please!" It was amazing to see how such simple acts could make someone smile.

"Of course, what do you want me to sign?"

"My hat! My baseball hat! Mom!" Mitch ran to his mom and reached into her bag to pull out a black and gold Pittsburgh Penguins baseball hat. Mitch's mother handed him a Sharpie marker, too. Mitch tucked the marker behind his ear and carefully held the hat in his hands like it was a prized possession that would break if he dropped it or held it to tightly. "Please!" He exclaimed as he handed the hat to Jordan.

Jordan plucked the marker from the behind the red-haired, freckle-faced, green-eyed boy and signed the hat. "To Mitch, my fellow center and Thunder Bay boy. Best of wishes to the future #1 draft pick. Your idol, Jordan Staal," Jordan dictated as he signed with a flourish. "Here you go, kid," Jordan placed the hat on Mitch's head and patted his back.

"Thanks! Thank you so much!" Mitch gushed as he went back to his mother. He was nearly squealing with glee.

"What is it like?" I asked Jordan. Mitch and his mother were out of earshot.

"What is what like?"

"What is like to be able to walk into a room and make someone smile? To just take a picture with someone and simply autograph a baseball hat and make them pink with glee?"

Jordan smiled and took my hand in his, "You should know. That's how I feel when I'm with you."

* * *

Please review! I hope you liked this chapter.


	29. Your Girl

Your Girl

* * *

"Cover Girl!" Max exclaimed in his greeting to me, "Happy birthday!"

"Thank you," I said bashfully.

"Now that you're Cover Girl, why not trade up to a superstar?" He teased, gently elbowing Jordan in the ribs.

"What are you talking about? I am with a superstar," I leaned into Jordan, who had his arm around my waist.

"You got yourself a keeper here," Max jokingly punched Jordan in the arm.

"That's what I said!" Jordan exclaimed.

"I'm going to get a drink, okay?" I smiled before walking to the kitchen. The moment I walked into the kitchen, I instantly regretted it. I regretted it because I found Evgeni sitting on the counter, kissing Oksana. My mouth went dry and my throat starting closing. I stood there with my eyes wide and mouth open. My red, plastic cup fell out of my hand and fell to the ground with a resounding thud.

Oksana turned around sharply, obviously upset that there make out session was interrupted, "_Zhenechka, tell __Svetka to go away," _She demanded in Russian.

_Zhenechka._ I didn't like the sound of his name on her lips. It stung a little to hear her say it. The term of endearment I wanted to use but never could_. __Svetka. _It's funny how in Russia, adding -ka to the end of a nickname can turn an affectionate pet name to a rude, derogatory slur.___Svetka. Zhenka. Mishka._

"_Ksenya,_ go away. I want to talk to_ Lana," Evgeni said tersely._

"_Lana? _She's_Lana, _now?" Oksana asked, clearly angry.

"_Ksenya. _Please."

"Hmph," She pouted. The ice blonde turned on her heel and pushed past me to get out of the kitchen.

I quickly picked up my empty cup and fumbled with it, trying to keep my hands busy so he wouldn't notice them shaking, "You- you didn't have to tell her to go away, at least not like that."

"I needed to talk to you. In person."

"I'm here. What do you want to talk about?" I walked over to where Evgeni was, who was still sitting on the counter top his long legs dangling off the edge.

* * *

"So what's going on with you and Sveta?" Sidney asked, innocent enough.

"I don't know," Jordan answered simply.

"Is she your girlfriend now?" Tyler's interest was piqued by the mention of the svelte Svetlana, as they had been calling her.

"I wouldn't say that," Jordan clarified, scratching the back of his neck.

"What would you say?" Marc prodding his way into the conversation.

"It's not that simple," Jordan stated dully.

"Sure it is," Tyler said dryly.

"Like what? Are we 'going steady?' Come on guys, we're adults. We know how we feel and we don't need to label it."

"It's not an unreasonable question," Sidney pointed out, "Watch. Marc, do you have a girlfriend?"

"Why yes, in fact, I do. Her name is Véronique but she prefers Vero. Sidney, how about you?"

"No, in fact, I find girls to be distracting and repulsive during the season. See, Jordan, it's easy."

"It is easy when you've been with the same girl since you were 18-"

"16," Marc corrected.

* * *

"That phone call. That phone call has been replaying over and over again in my head. I can't get what you said out of my head," Evgeni looked down, as though he was hanging his down in shame.

"What did I say that was so memorable?" I leaned against the counter top, trying to act nonchalant.

"That you love me."

"I do, but we don't have a future together because I can't trust you," I looked up at those puppy dog eyes for a second, knowing that I have been sucked in by those chocolate eyes before. "Without trust, there can be no love."

"I know. I know. I guess I thought I could have a second chance," Evgeni drew the words out, saying them slowly; unsure of what the precise effect his words would have on me.

"I- I can't," I stuttered. I found myself, involuntarily inching closer to Evgeni.

Evgeni's calloused hand ran up and down my arm.

Involuntarily, I shuddered and I could feel my knees turning to Jell-O.

* * *

"You've been seeing her for like what- two months now? And you're moving in with her," Tyler pointed out.

"Something like that," Jordan grumbled. He did not enjoy getting grilled by his teammates over Svetlana.

"And you haven't discussed it?" Tyler asked incredulously.

"Yes! No! She's not- We're not like that," Jordan concluded.

"Like what?" Marc asked.

"Normal," Tyler stated.

* * *

I found myself where I never wanted to be again. At mercy to Evgeni.

His hand caressing my cheek.

My eyes daring to meet his.

His head lowering ever so slightly.

I started to roll to the balls of my feet to meet his lips with mine. I knew it was wrong. I knew I shouldn't be doing this. But he had this hold on me. Luckily, I was saved. The kitchen door swung open and I jumped back and away from Evgeni.

"There you are Sveta!" Jordan exclaimed. "Come on. We're gonna light the cake."

I nodded as my head was swimming. Did Jordan see me almost kissing Evgeni? I followed Jordan to the dining room, where everyone was surrounding a large, white-frosted, sheet cake and in pink icing said "Happy Sveta-mas!" The candles were lit. "Thank you everyone!" I exclaimed as Jordan procured a camera.

Everyone broke into a rather, off-tune rendition of "Happy Birthday to You," which made me smile. "Make a wish!"

I closed my eyes tight and made a wish. I wish things weren't so complicated. I blew out the candles.

"What'd you wish for?" Vero asked.

"I can't tell you, or else it won't come true," I said coyly.

"Oh we know what she wished for," Max teased, "Right Jordan," Winking at me suggestively.

"Who wants cake?" Jordan interrupted, saving me from any further embarrassment.

* * *

Jordan and I were in the kitchen, eating our slices of cake in private. Jordan's fork flicked against my neck, smearing frost onto my jawline and neck. Jordan looked like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I'll take care of it." Before I could say anything, Jordan's mouth was on my jawline and moving down my neck, gently licking the sweet substance off my skin.

I heard the door swing open. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Evgeni standing in the doorway, staring at me. I could feel Evgeni's eyes burning on me. My breathing hitched as Jordan's lips found the sweet spot on my neck. "J-Jordan," I stammered. I was absolute putty in his hands.

Evgeni cleared his throat. Breaking the spell.

I dared not think what would have happened next.

"Geno, hey what's up," Jordan said nonchalantly, as if nothing happened. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," Evgeni grumbled.

"Ha, well, see you out there," Jordan walked out of the kitchen.

"You can't because of Jordan?" Evgeni asked. The jealousy evident in his voice.

"I told you why I can't," I uttered as I walked out of the kitchen, "Green doesn't suit you, _Zhenechka," _I said, mocking Oksana's Moscow accent.

The whole group, more like the Pittsburgh Penguins roster, was piled into the living room, where Jordan had magically procured a video of me dancing at the graduation recital. I had the highest marks in the entire class so I was able to do a solo of my choice. I remember it so clearly.

The 'Dying Swan.' It was a role that asked so much of the dancer. The endless _pas de bourée suivi _and the_port de bras. _It was such a highly technical dance yet, the technique wasn't the focus. The technique is merely a vehicle to display the symbol of everlasting struggle and all things mortal. There is not only a demand on technique but on artistry. Every gesture, every movement must signify a different experience, a new emotion, which stems from someone trying to escape death. It is not only a dance of the limbs but of the whole being. It truly touches your soul. The choreography told the story of a dying swan, who is struggling to take it's last flight.

I remember my teachers remarking how it was too sad a number for such a joyous occasion, but I needed for that to be my last piece as a student. I needed to prove everyone, who said I couldn't make it, wrong and to prove the Bolshoi that they were right in choosing me.

The video had just finished playing my solo when...

"What did you talk to that slut about!" Oksana demanded, her face red with anger.

"What does it matter? Do you not trust me?" Evgeni trying to pacify her.

"Don't try and get out of this! Are you cheating on me with that- that skinny, flat-chested whore!" Oksana screamed in English.

There was this silence, like everything was going in slow motion. Jordan's arm wrapped around my waist, drawing me closer to him as if he was making sure that I was still there.

"_Oksanochka," _Evgeni soothed in Russian, "Don't be irrational."

"Oh so I'm _Oksanochka_ now? In the kitchen, I was just poor, little_ Ksenya._ Am I being irrational? Am I?" She was seething.

"_Oksanochka,_ you're making a scene." Gone was all sympathy and compassion. Evgeni had a steel-eyed look in his eyes. "Let's go." He grabbed her arm. He turned to us with sympathetic eyes, "I'm sorry for Oksana. She's had too much to drink." With that, he half-dragged Oksana out of the apartment.

"That effectively ruined the rest of the evening," Tyler said flatly. "I guess I should be heading out, too."

"Yeah see you at practice tomorrow," Jordan walked everyone out of the apartment.

Before leaving, Max winked, "Happy birthday Sveta, and I happen to think you're not at all flat-chested. In fact, you have a great rack-"

"Okay, goodnight Max," Jordan interrupted, shutting the door. "Finally, they're all gone," he sighed.

"Thank you," I said, smiling, "For everything."

* * *

"What were you and Evgeni talking about in the kitchen?" Jordan asked as we both laid in bed.

"The past."

"Oh," Jordan's mouth making a large 'o' shape. "Sveta?"

"Mmm,"

"We're exclusive, right? We're not yet boyfriend-girlfriend but we're exclusive."

I turned onto my side to look at him, "Of course, we are. I want to be your girlfriend." Your girl. Three months ago, I didn't think I'd be anyone else's girl but Evgeni's. Yet, here I am. Wanting, wishing to be Jordan's girl.


	30. Perfect Fit

Perfect Fit

* * *

Class the next morning. Where should I being? With the fact that I could feel everyone staring at me. I could hear everyone whispering about me. I could hear girls snickering or giggling, when I walked down the halls. I wasn't sure whether it stemmed from the Anna situation or everyone finding out about Jordan and me. It seemed that some people were walking on eggshells around me like they thought I was in this fragile emotional state. While other people would openly stare at me as if trying to figure out what Jordan saw in me. I found myself wondering that myself.

_What did Jordan see in me? _I suppose that the reason why someone loves another will always be a mystery. Love is such an ineffable emotion.

"Svetlana?" Leah tapped my shoulder as I untied my pointe shoes. "Mr. Orr wants to see you before you head out for lunch."

"Okay, thanks Leah." _What did he want now? _I thought to myself. I put on my flip-flops and gathered my things. The walk to Mr. Orr's office is the closest I'll ever get to walking the green mile. "He asked for me?" I asked Mrs. Beasly, Mr. Orr's receptionist and secretary.

"Go on ahead, he's waiting for you," She replied with her usual kindness.

I opened the door and I found Mr. Orr and someone else. A tall woman with long blonde hair and tanned skin. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes, please sit down, Svetlana," Mr. Orr gestured to the chair.

I hesitantly took a seat.

"Svetlana, how far along are you with your pas de deux with Charlie and Alejandro?"

"We've learned all the choreography. We just need to clean it up and focus on our expression."

"Good, good. I want you to do a solo for the Showcase."

"I thought Suzanne was doing the solo for the Showcase."

"Oh she will, we're just going to add yours in the program, somewhere. This is Katie Gregory, she's choreographing your solo and the Curtain Call number."

"Are you giving me a solo because of the magazine cover?" I asked skeptical. Naturally, I wanted to have a solo but I wanted one based on my dance ability not because the lighting was particularly flattering on my face or because Jordan was my boyfriend.

"You are an amazing dancer, Svetlana, with great technique and artistry. You have an amazing legacy, too. The magazine, while beautiful and gave the Company great publicity, is not the only reason you have a solo. After lunch, you will go work on your pas de deux with Charlie but for only an hour. Then, you will go to the Aston room and work on your solo with Katie. Tomorrow you will start working on the Curtain Call number so you will be working on your solo after that."

I merely nodded, "Is that all, Mr. Orr?"

"Yes, yes. Don't forget to check the board or to call-in for the schedule."

* * *

"Ta-Ta- Da-da- And Arabesque, ronde, sauté, pirouette, tour jeté. Perfect. Good. Emote. Nice, nice," Charlie clapped the beat as we ran through the dance, "Run, run, run. Lift and kick. Good. More resistance to the movement. Okay, and more emotion, really feel it. Good job," He concluded as we finished. "I like what I'm seeing. The emotion is just spot-on from both of you."

I looked at the clock, "Um, Mr. Orr told you. I have to go."

"Oh yes of course. Alejandro, Svetlana we're done for the day," Charlie said.

I quickly took off my pointe shoes and packed my dance bag. I nearly ran out of the door, hoping to not be late.

"Have fun with it, cover girl!" Charlie called after me.

The Aston room was luckily also on the top floor. It was a large white room with a row of barres on one side and mirrors on the other. The ceiling was high and vaulted with a sun roof to let natural light in. "I'm sorry. I'm late, practice with Charlie ran a little longer than usual."

"Don't worry about it," Katie looked young. Younger than me. "Do you have jazz shoes?"

I shook my head. I had never even trained in jazz while at the Academy.

"I have some extra. I'm not sure how well they will fit but you should pick some up. You're going to need them for this solo and the Curtain Call number."

Her jazz shoes fit well, a little snug but well. "I will."

"Okay, so this solo is going to be more jazz based. It's all about you and your fierceness. You're a cover girl. This is the song," She clicked the play button her remote and a thumping bass filled the room.

"Stroll down the runway  
Another payday  
Cover of magazines  
And when they see me  
They want to be me  
I am your fantasy

Cover girl!

Put the bass in your walk  
Head to toe let your whole body talk  
(Cover Girl! Put your bass in your wak  
Head-to-toe let your whole body talk)

To Graumman's Chinese, Red carpet TV  
Valet my limousine  
Box office sweetie, An Oscar nominee  
Now watch me snatch trophies

Cover girl!

Put the bass in your walk  
Head to toe let your whole body talk  
(Cover Girl! Put your bass in your wak  
Head-to-toe let your whole body talk)

Walk...now walk...walk...now walk(and what?)  
Walk...now walk...walk...now walk

Stroll down the runway  
Another payday  
Cover of magazines  
And when they see me  
They want to be me  
I am the fantasy

Cover girl!

Put the bass in your walk  
Head to toe let your whole body talk  
(Cover Girl! Put your bass in your wak  
Head-to-toe let your whole body talk)

Pump and bump it  
Pump it and bump bump it  
Pump pump it and bump bump it  
Pump pump it and bump bump it

Walk...now walk...walk...now walk(and what?)  
Walk...now walk...walk...now walk(and what?)"

"You have to be a real diva. We're going to put some acro in it, too. Alright-ey then, I want you stand around here, like this, arms like that, okay," Katie positioning my body exactly how she envisioned it. "Now this is how it goes," She stood in front of me, and started doing the opening movements, slowly. I mirrored them, letting her fix anything.

It was uncomfortable being in a new style of movement and dance. Jazz is about being grounded into the earth while ballet is all about being floaty and above it. In ballet, we wear pointe shoes so that we look we aren't touching the ground. The job of a dancer is to make a choreographer's vision come to life and I had to do that. It didn't matter that the jazz shoes were too tight or the movements were awkward. I had to make Katie's vision a reality. The routine was more designed for a competition than to tell a story. It showed off technique, strength, power and flexibility. It was a true tour de force, with it's endless pirouettes and acrobatics.

"Okay from the top. I want lots of attitude," Katie started clapping the beats, "1-and-2-and-3-and-4-and-five-and-six-and-seven-and-eight. 1-2-3-4-5-6- Prepare! - Jeté. Good, good, liking the swag, and- front handspring – pirouette – spot! Good high relevé and into the split, nice. Kick. We'll stop there."

I nodded, panting and sweaty. I slipped on my flip-flops and packed up my dance bag, "Bye Katie, thanks."

"I should be thankin' you, girl. Get some jazz shoes!" She called out.

I smiled and started dialing Jordan's number, "Hi, Jordan?"

"What's up?"

"I'm going to be a little late. I have to stop by the Shoe Room."

"I'm already out here," Jordan said flatly.

"You can meet me there, if you want. It's near the Costume Room. You go through the Stage Door and instead go right. On your left, there should be a door with the words 'Shoe Room.'"

"Okay, see you there."

"Bye."

"Bye," He echoed before hanging up.

I walked to the Shoe Room thinking about the new solo trying to ingrain them into my mind. I pushed open the wooden door to the Room. The Room is a unique place. It's a large, long room with walls lined with rows and rows of dance shoes, almost all of them pointe shoes. "Giuseppe?" I called, looking for the gray-haired, wizened Giuseppe. "Are you here?"

"Yes, yes, of course I am here," Giuseppe walked out from the far depths of the Room. "Ah, Svetlana. Freed's, extra-long vamps, 8XX, medium flexible leather shank, v-cut vamps, elastic drawstring, extra paste. I believe you ask for 3/8" cut from the heel and 1/4" from the sides. Maker stamp is the bell, yes?" Giuseppe closed his eyes as he recited my specifications. It looked like he was imagining the shoe, the way the satin was pleated, the exactly measurements of the shoe.

"That's me."

"What can I do for you?"

"I need jazz shoes for a new solo and the Curtain Call."

"Ah, yes. Congratulations on the magazine cover. It looked lovely. You look very much like your mother."

"Thank you."

"Did I ever tell you, I worked with her? She danced in the Theatre, once. Very long ago."

"She danced for the Company?" I asked in shock. My mother had never mentioned this.

"Only once. During the beginning of her career, just after she graduated. She was no older than you."

"She never told me that," I said softly.

"So is there a brand you prefer for jazz shoes?"

I blushed and looked down, embarrassed by my inexperience, "I've never owned jazz shoes before."

"Ahh, I see. Well then, is there a color you prefer?"

"Nude, please."

"I will bring an assortment of shoes out for you to try on. Please sit," He gestured to a bench, off to the side.

I nodded and took a seat.

"Sveta?" Jordan opened the door and poked his head through.

"Jordan, over here."

"Oh," he said, awed by the sheer amount of shoes. "That's a lot of shoes."

"Enough for the entire company. Sit." I patted the lacquered smooth, wooden surface of the bench.

Jordan sat down next to me, stretching out his long legs. "How was your day?"

"Good," I leaned my head against his broad shoulder, "I got a solo. They added it to the program."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think it's because of the magazine cover. I'm sure there are people out there, who are buying tickets just because they think I look pretty."

"Well, they can't have you," Jordan kissed my forehead.

"How was practice?" I smiled, nuzzling his neck.

"Good. I'm going to miss you, when I go to Sweden."

"I'm going to miss you, too," My fingers entwining with his.

"Svetlana?" Giuseppe called out as he approached us, holding a large stack of long, narrow boxes. "Jordan Staal?" He asked, shocked.

"Hi, there," Jordan extended his hand but withdrew at the sight of the boxes. "Let me help you with those," He added and helped unload the stack of boxes.

"I'm a big fan of the Pens. I used to play ice hockey when I was young back home in Italy. There was a large lake at the highest point in my town. In the winter it would freeze over and my friends and I would play," He said wistfully, setting down the rest of the boxes. "It's an honor to meet you. Now, Svetlana, we have several brands here. Let's start with the Blochs."

"Sure," I said, slipping my feet out of my flip-flops.

Giuseppe opened a tan colored box, sliding out a pair of nude, heeled jazz shoes, handing them to me, "These are leather. I have some canvas ones but I find that the leather ones mold better and are more flexible. All of these are split sole."

I nodded, unwillingly untangling my fingers to put the shoes on. I stood up, rolling to my toes and rolling back down to my heels. "These feel okay."

"Go ahead, dance in them," Giuseppe egged.

I did a few quick releves and an arabesque. "Hmm, the seam here," I pointed to a seam on the instep, "Rubs against my arch."

"Hmm, do you like the leather? Do you want to try a canvas?"

"Sure, let's try a canvas," I sat on the bench and took off the jazz shoes, handing them to Giuseppe, who in turned handed me a canvas pair of jazz shoes. "These look... different."

Giuseppe laughed, "Yes, well. The canvas is not the most attractive option nor the most preferred but there are a few dancers who like them."

I slipped them on. I did the same pirouette and side leap. I shook my head, "No. They don't feel right."

"I thought so. Try these. Carpezio."

I must have tried a dozen different shoes, none of them quite right.

"Hmm," Giuseppe pondered as I returned the last pair of shoes to him, "I think I know what will work." He wandered off to the far depths of the Room.

"Sorry," I said to Jordan, who must have been bored out of his mind, "This must be very, very boring for you."

"No, no it's cool. It's actually kind of interesting-"

"You don't have to lie," I smiled and sat down next to Jordan. "Shoe fittings can be very tedious."

"It's fine, as long as I'm with you."

"We're in that phase," I giggled.

"What phase?"

"That super sweet, sickly cute phase that makes other couples sick with jealousy."

"Yup, I'd say we're in that phase," He laughed, smiling, kissing my cheek, "My goal is to stay in that phase for as long as possible." Jordan pulled me into a deep, intoxicating kiss. He knew exactly how to make my knees buckle, my head to spin, my heart to flutter with just a kiss.

Giuseppe cleared his throat and we pulled away from each other. "I think you will like these very much. These are a very unique pair, as always with Freed's. If you like them, I will have to put in a special order for you."

I took the shoes and slipped them on and knew. They fit perfectly. I stood up and did a few warmup movements using the counter as a barre. "These are great."

"Yes, the higher heel provides more support for your high arches. Also, these are in Freed's unique sizing so they offer the perfect fit."

"I like how they show off my arches. The fit is perfect, like you said."

"Should I arrange for an order of these?"

"Yes please."

"Is there anything else?"

"No, that is all," I shook my head.

"Well then, you keep those and I will send out for a shipment of Freed's. I will also lend you a pair of Grecians by Bloch. They are a different cut and they show off the arch quite beautifully. I would like for you to try them out," Giuseppe handed me two boxes. "Good luck Mr. Staal on the season. I can feel it in my bones that this year is the year."

"Thank you. I hope you're right," Jordan stood up and shook Giuseppe's hand. Then, he picked up my dance bag. His arm wrapped around my waist, "We have to get going."

"Yes of course. Svetlana, the shoes should come in about two to three weeks."

"Thank you, Giuseppe," I shook his hand before we left.

Shoes, especially dance shoes, need to be a perfect fit. Sometimes you have to try on several before you find the perfect one, sometimes you find it on the first try. They need to suit you in every way, support your needs, enhance your features and help you work through your flaws.

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I hope you guys liked this chapter. I'll post the next one tomorrow. I also hope you guys didn't find this chapter too boring. Please review! It really keeps me going!


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